Speak to Me
by Lady Lynn
Summary: HPSS Slash, OotP Spoilers- Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in the attic, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak
1. Sweet Sixteen

**Speak to Me**  
  
**Disclaime**r: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.   
  
**Summary**: Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in the attic, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?   
  
**Warning**: Possibly **A/U**, Mentions of **Abuse**. OotP **Spoilers**, HP/SS **Slash** (Will be slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So please don't pressure me.), Some **vulgar language. ****_You Have been Warned!_**   
  
**_Chapter 1: His 16th Birthday_**   
  
  
--   
  
  
Vernon hovered over him. Harry could feel his massive form millimeters away, almost touching him. It made him cringe. His uncle leaned down, placing a hand on the desk beside Harry's elbow. He could feel his breathing. Hear him breathing. Smell the foul stench of his breath.   
  
Harry concentrated on the letter. It was all he could do to keep himself from flinching away from his uncle. He hated it when he was so close, too close. But if he flinched away, his uncle would get angry.   
  
He breathed deeply, and picked up his pen, and started to write on the parchment. The sooner he wrote it, the faster Vernon would be away from him.   
  
  
_'Hello Everyone-   
  
I'm doing great. The Dursleys are treating me much better this year, now that they're afraid Moody will subject them to magic. I think this is going to be a great summer. I can't wait to meet you all at Diagon Alley, even we're only two weeks into the summer.   
  
I'd write more, but I don't really have the time. I'll write you soon.   
  
Missing you all,   
  
Harry Potter'_   
  
  
  
The moment Harry signed his name Vernon snatched the note up and moved away from him. After a few grumbles Vernon folded the note and gave it to Hedwig, who took it in her beak.   
  
"Rutty owl, you know where to take it." Vernon grunted, sneering at her. Hedwig ruffled her feathers indignantly.   
  
"You need to tie it to her leg, Uncle Vernon." Harry said, quietly.   
  
"I thought I told you not to talk, boy?" Vernon snapped, whirling to face Harry, and moving to him. Harry glared at him, earning his second hit in 6 years; one that sent him out of his chair and sprawled on the floor.   
  
Vernon smirked and tromped over to Hedwig, removing a small string from his pocket and tying it around the owl's leg. He moved to the attic window and unclasped the screen, letting the owl out. He put it back in such a way that he knew Harry couldn't remove it. The boy was too weak.   
  
With one last disgusted look at Harry, he moved out the attic's trap door, barely fitting through it, and closed it as he headed through. Harry could hear him locking several locks.   
  
After what seemed like an eternity, Harry dared to move over to the mat he made himself on the floor. It was a mixed of his school robes and oversized muggle cloths that he made himself a bed on the floor. He didn't care if he was acting like a scared child. He just wanted to get through this summer with as little injuries as possible.   
  
He rolled onto his stomach, flinching as childhood memories of Vernon abusing him flooded into his mind.   
  
  
--   
  
  
What the letter said was the complete opposite of everything that was happening. He's been locked in the attic since he arrived. Apparently, while he was away at school, everything in the room he'd been using had been removed, and he was placed in the attic. His meals were sent up through the Laundry carrier, which had been fixed so it would go to the attic.   
  
He had a port-a-potty as the bathroom.   
  
He was visited every three days. His uncle would make him empty his portable toilet, shower, and then would supervise him while he wrote a letter to his 'freaky friends'. He wasn't going to take the chance that they'd get suspicious and come near his house. Contaminate it with their abnormalities.   
  
Vernon told Harry he wasn't to talk; he didn't want the hear the slightest noise coming from him, or he'd belt him.   
  
At one point in time, Harry started to talk quietly to himself, and he knew that they wouldn't hear him downstairs.   
  
But Vernon had come up and yelled until his face was purple, then backhanded Harry before waddling from the attic.   
  
Apparently the Dursleys had something hooked up somewhere, so they could listen to make sure he didn't make any noise. Maybe they were scared he was going to cast a spell.   
  
They had left his trunk in the attic with him, instead of locking it in the basement. They previously decided that he'd be quieter if he had something to do; and would be less likely to touch their things.   
  
That's how it was, day after day, week after week. Every three days he would do what was required, and he wouldn't emit a single word. He'd write a letter to his friends. Harry kept mark of the days by carving a line in the wall every day passed. At least he'd have his summer work done.   
  
  
---   
  
  
Harry carefully settled back in the chair he sat in. The desk and chair used to belong to Dudley; but the morbidly obese boy had broken it under his massive weight. The boy must have weighed almost 500 pounds. It was a wonder he didn't have a heart attack and die. Harry would certainly get a kick out of that. The Dursleys would probably blame it on him.   
  
He stared at his Potions essay. It was probably the best essay he'd ever written, and the best he ever would. He doubted he'd ever have so much time, while in school, to spend days researching a potion and then write about it. He did take his time, though. It was the last piece of homework he had.   
  
He stared at his desk. Today was his birthday. Vernon would probably throw all the gifts he received in the trash. If he received any. He wouldn't blame anyone if they didn't send him any.   
  
He breathed in sharply as he suddenly heard the locks clicking on the attic's floor-door. How could he have not heard anyone coming? Oh well. That's right, too. Today was one of THOSE days, the days he's come to refer to has 'The Third Day.' His weeks had began to work on three day schedules. No special names, just 'The First Day,' 'The Second Day' and 'The Third Day.' He smirked to himself, trying to decide if it was fortunate that his birthday had fallen on The Third Day, or if it was bad.   
  
Suddenly coming to his senses, Harry grabbed the parchment off his desk, and his books, and stuffed them in his trunk. He soundlessly and quickly as possible moved back to his desk, and pretended to be staring dazedly out his window.   
  
"Potter." The voice of his Uncle Vernon snarled, as the large man climbed into the attic, breathing heavily, face red. Harry supposed it was from so much movement. Must have overexerted himself. Harry resisted smirking to himself.   
  
"Your Freaky friends sent you gifts." He growled, dropping a trash bag on the floor, grinning as it sounded like something broke.   
  
Harry flinched slightly.   
  
"Get up and empty that disgusting toilet right now. Then shower-and then you'll come back here, and you'll open these gifts in front of me." Vernon growled viciously. Harry stood up and moved over to the toilet. "Hurry up!" Dursley snapped, "And don't use the warm water-" he said dangerously, "You'll be wasting my hard-earned money."   
  
Harry silently started to the attic floor-door with the port-a-potty.   
  
"Make sure you wash your hair well, you smelly, greasy little bastard." Vernon snarled after him.   
  
-   
  
  
Harry closed and locked the bathroom door, turning on the water. He soaped up his hands well, and started to wash.   
  
He couldn't believe Vernon dared called him greasy. It wasn't *completely* his fault that he could only shower every 3 days. He supposed he deserved it though. He did kill Sirius.   
  
He filled his hands with water, and drained him quickly, before filling them back up again. He got so thirsty. Petunia only sent water up, with some bread. That was his usual meal and drink. Three times a day. Sometimes the bread was stale. But it was food. If he was lucky, he'd get table scraps. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened to them though. Dudley could have licked them for all he knew.   
  
But it was food.   
  
  
--   
  
  
Harry moved and sat on the floor, as Dursley took the trash bag and tipped it over, pouring the contents on the floor. "Start opening," Vernon snarled, and stood towering over him.   
  
Harry reached out and picked up the box from Ron, pulling the string and letting the paper fall back. He quickly opened the box, to find a sweater from Ron's Mom, and a box with a small cupcake in it. There was a few chocolate frogs, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.   
  
Vernon snarled, "Dump it out. Hurry up, boy, I haven't got all day."   
  
Hesitantly, Harry slowly tipped the box on the floor beside him. A few other candies and a tiny wrapped box rolled onto the floor.   
  
Vernon snatched the box up, and tore the paper off.   
  
He snorted in laughter. "These are your freaking friends? Disgusting, Potter. They look more abnormal than you." He said with a disgusting smirk, and roughly tossed the picture over onto his desk. Harry held his breath, but didn't hear anything break. Thankful that Vernon didn't break the frame, Harry quickly picked up the letter from Ron.   


  
_'Happy Birthday, Harry!   
  
I hope you liked the picture of me and Hermione. She came over to visit a few days ago, and-well mate, I finally told her.   
  
That's a chocolate cupcake; I know how much you love chocolate, so Mom made it as chocolatey as she could. I hope your birthday   
  
is brilliant. Have you gotten any of your summer work done yet? Hermione made me work on mine, but I haven't even begun to tackle that Potion's essay. Honestly, Snape must be mad. Assigning that much over vacation..   
  
Anyway, have a happy birthday Harry, can't wait to see you!   
  
- Your friend,   
  
Ron'_   
  
  
Harry read the letter, and went to set it down when a pair of red, fat fingers snatched it up.  
  
Harry slowly went to the box he got from Hermione, and unwrapped it. He smiled as he looked at the gift; She had sent him a book titled 'How to use Wandless Magic.' And.. A ring?   
  
Raising his eyebrows slightly, he picked up the letter from Hermione and read it.   
  
  
_'Happy Birthday, Harry!   
  
You're probably wondering what the ring does. Well, it works with the book. You'll have to read it to find out! I don't know if you've read Ron's letter or not, but we got together a few days ago. I've never been so Happy.   
  
Anyway, write back. I miss you.   
  
Love,   
  
Hermione'_   
  
  
He smiled slightly and silently handed the quiet Vernon the letter.  
  
He had two gifts left.. And 3 letters. One of them and the Hogwarts seal.   
  
He reached out and picked up the other gift. This one was from Remus. With a soft smile he quickly opened it, feeling impatience radiating off the fat man behind him.   
  
He grinned, looking at the book Remus got him. The real title was covered with a parchment, obviously in Ron's handwriting, that said 'How to Handle Greasy Gits.' Curiously, Harry removed the paper, raising his eyebrows at the title. 'Occulmency and You.' Hearing what sounded like a growl from his uncle, he quickly snatched up the other book Remus got him. 'Understand Potions'   
  
Potions? Why would Remus get him a book on Potions? Maybe he knew how horrible he was in Snape's class. Well, that was a given.   
  
"Potter." Vernon snarled, "You can linger later, Open the other one NOW."   
  
Harry flinched, and opened his mouth to say something, but didn't. he knew better than that. He quickly picked up Remus's letter, and opened it, eyes scanning it quickly. _  
  
  
'Harry-   
  
Happy Birthday. I hoped you might appreciate the books, if you had time. I got the impression from your letters that you were rather busy. So when you get the chance, at least look at them. I Promise they'll help you. We all miss you very much.   
  
Much Love,   
  
Remus Lupin.'_   
  
  
Vernon snatched the letter from his hands, and read it over as Harry picked up the last gift, thinking 'I can't even enjoy opening my presents, because that git has to be here to ruin it. Although I am lucky, at least it seems he's going to let me keep them.' Harry thought sadly as he untied the top, and took the wrapping off.   
  
It was two boxes, one stacked on top of the other. One was labeled 'From Hagrid' in Hagrid's chicken scratch, and then another one 'From Albus Dumbledore'   
  
He opened Hagrid's gift first, gently emptying the contents onto the floor. There was a tin of hard fudge, and a card saying 'Happie B-Dae, Hari. I miss u.' Which was snatched away from him the second he finished reading it.   
  
He did the same with his Headmaster's gift, although unsure why he was receiving anything from him.   
  
A rather large, dusty book slid out of the box; it read 'A Beginner's Guide to the Dark Arts'. His eyes nearly bulged from his head as he read the title.   
  
"Dark Arts?" Vernon said with a hint of amusement, "That crackpot fool of a headmaster sends you a book on arts?" He snorted. "Open the letters. Now."   
  
Harry picked up the nonofficial letter first, and read it.   
  
  
_'Dear Harry,   
  
Happy Birthday. I hope you make use of this book, perhaps you could use it as a stool or something. Possibly read it. It might help prepare you for the upcoming battle. I borrowed it from Professor Snape, so when you come back to school next year, give it to him.' _  
  
Harry stared at the letter. Next year? Maybe he truly is off his rocker. Why would he need to keep it for an entire year? _  
  
'Anyway, I hope you have a Happy Birthday. I Would've given you a real present, but I think this book will do well enough. As a school official, I'm not allowed until you graduate. Student Favoritism, you know. You can always ask Severus if you need to borrow it again.   
  
Truly Yours,   
  
Albus'_   
  
  
"Finished?" Vernon sneered, and Harry handed it back to him, "Took you a bloody long time to read it." He said darkly before scanning over the letter.   
  
Harry picked up the Hogwarts letter and opened it up.   
  
  
_"Dear Mr. Harry Potter,   
  
We are saddened to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be closed this year, due to the dangers of Death Eater activity. New wards have been set up around the school, and as you know, will take a full year before they become active. We'll be seeing you next September!   
  
Sincerely,   
  
Minerva McGonagal   
  
Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.   
  
Albus Dumbledore   
  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'_   
  
  
Vernon was quick in reading that letter, too.   
  
"WHAT?!" He bellowed, nearly shaking the house, "I'm stuck with you, you little runt, for another year? You won't be leaving this house, Potter. Ever." He grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him up. Harry surpressed a yelp as the over grown whale dragged him to his desk and shoved him into the wobbly chair. "Write!" he snarled, spit flying from his mouth and landing onto the desk. Harry cringed, picking up the pen and beginning to write.   
  
  
_'Hey Ron,   
  
Thanks for the gift. I love it. I'm happy for you and Hermione. I got my homework done, but since we have another year to do it, I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? I doubt Dumbledore will let me come visit you. No worries, though, Mate. With everyone backing me up, I'm going to be having a good time.   
  
Tell your Mom thanks for the sweater and the cupcake.   
  
Your Friend,   
  
Harry.'_   
  
  
_'Dearest Hermione,   
  
Thanks for the ring and book, I can't wait to read the book. I'm going to miss you and Ron, since I won't be seeing you till next year, trusting you've heard the school is closed. I'm happy for you and Ron; I can't believe he finally got the courage to come out with it. Anyway, I'm doing great here,   
  
Love,   
  
Harry'_   
  
_  
'Remus,   
  
Thank you. I'll be sure to read them, don't worry. I'll need to brush up on my potion skills if I want to be an Auror, and I know how important Occulmency is now. Sadly, it took my godfather's life in order for me to realize it. I'm really sorry it had to happen.   
  
I think I'll be able to bear staying here for one more year, thanks to you guys. It's not so bad, and if I ever to do bored I'll have all these books to read. I know I'll get bored eventually. I have a full year. Ill write soon.   
  
I miss you too,   
  
Harry'   
  
  
'Dear headmaster,   
  
Thanks for the book, I promise I'll read it. Merlin knows I'll need it. I can't imagine what you went though to get Professor Snape to allow me to borrow the book.   
  
Thanks, I'll see you in a year.   
  
Sincerely,   
  
Harry' _  
  
  
Harry put down the pen, his hand obviously exhausted from writing, and Vernon picked up the letters, reading each one slowly. He glowered at Harry.   
  
"Remember, not a peep, understood?'   
  
Harry simply bowed his head to the man, who left the attic. Harry hadn't seen Hedwig in days. She learned to go downstairs, ever since she realized Harry couldn't open his window.   
  
The 16 year old boy sighed and stared out the window.   
  
  
---   
  
  
I hope you like it, don't worry, I'm going to continue it, just please be patient, I've a lot to do. 


	2. Jackel

  
  
**Speak to Me**   
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.   
  
**Summary:** Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?   
  
**Warning:** Possibly **A/U,** Mentions of **Abuse**. OotP **Spoilers,** HP/SS **SLASH** (Will be slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some **bad language.**   
  
Thanks to all my reviewers, I was astounded at the response I got. It seems each story I write gets more reviews than the last. I'm amazed and ecstatic to see that some of my favorite authors have also been reading my stories. And thanks for the few who pointed out my error at the end- I don't know why I didn't catch it, but I fixed it. Well, I wont hold you from reading the newest chapter-I'm just so HAPPY...   
  
**_Ch. 2 -Jackel_**   
  
---   
  
  
  
Over the course of the year, Harry would write reassuring letters to his friends, under the supervision of his Uncle. Irritatingly enough to him, none of them seemed to get suspicious of anything, even with his short, non-descriptive letters. He didn't mention to his uncle that they might arise suspicion in contrast to the longer ones he wrote last year, because he was hoping they would. He wasn't going to say a word to his uncle. He did, however, become thoroughly annoyed that his friends, and even Remus, could be so easily deceived.   
  
Sitting by the window and reading had become his favorite pastime. The sun kept his skin a healthy color-and fresh air would grace his lungs. At night, when he couldn't sleep, he could also be found by the window, reading, or even just staring at the star and the moon, wondering about Remus, or shedding silent tears over the loss of his godfather.   
  
He tiptoed around his Uncle, and never uttered a sound, even in the late hours of the night when he wasn't able to sleep.   
  
He was learning a lot from the books. He read Remus's 'Occulmency and You' book first, found it quite easy to understand, and easily mastered the art of keeping Voldemort out of his dreams at night. He had decided that 'Understand Potions' could wait, and picked up Hermione's guide to Wandless Magic. Dumbledore's gift, 'A Beginner's Guide to the Dark Art's' proved quite a fascinating read, so he read it a few times through, to make she he remembered the important spells, such as the ones he'd use to take out Voldemort and bring down his Death Eaters. He had decided that they were a little too inappropriate to use on his Aunt and Uncle, he didn't want to get thrown in Azkaban.   
  
He had formed a plot. He was going to leave on his Seventeenth Birthday, when he would no longer be counted as an Underaged Wizard.   
  
He'd spell his way out of the Dursleys on the Third Day that followed his birthday-after he got a chance to shower. He'd come upstairs, stun his uncle and take his things, leaving it to the ministry to take care of the problems, though he was sure there wouldn't be any. Luckily, he had muggle money saved up in a piggy bank in his trunk. As he grew up, while he was cleaning, he took to saving any money that he found in the cushions or on the floor. There were only small change, but saved up, they equaled a lot. He only needed enough to get himself a bandana anyway, to cover his scar. He'd proceed to the bathroom-he knew well enough that the bathroom in the store he was going to was a one-man bathroom. Not one of those stupid ones with stalls. He'd use charms there, to lengthen his hair and change his eye color. Use a few more charms to alter his facial appearance.   
  
Then he'd wave down the knight bus, give them the alias 'Ishmael O' Leary,' and have it bring him to Gringotts, where he'd withdraw a lot of money. He'd stop at 'Ursula's Robes' and pick up a few sets, so he didn't have to walk around in this hand-me-down muggle clothing, that smelt because they never washed them. He'd probably pick up a few books, too, as well as his school supplies (Because he knew he'd probably be receiving his Hogwarts letter on his birthday), and anything else he thought worthy of being picked up.   
  
He'd then spend the following month leisurely, and continue to write reassuring letters to his friends. He had no qualms about Hedwig, he knew his owl would find him somehow.   
  
He knew his plan wasn't foolproof, and he knew he'd get recognized sooner or later, either that or Dumbledore or some Order member would find him. Dumbledore always seemed to know where he was, anyway. He knew it wasn't safe, too, that he could be attacked, without the 'protection' of his Aunt's house.   
  
---   
  
  
  
His seventeenth Birthday went about the same as last year's. He received another book from Hermione, titled 'The Muggle-Born's guide to being a Wizard.' Another sweater from Ron's mother and this time not one, but two really chocolatey cupcakes. Hagrid gave him another tin of hard, trickle fudge and Remus gave him a small glass ball, that had instructions on how to use it. Harry supposed it showed him what someone was doing, and when. Dumbledore mailed him a book titled 'The Beginners Guide to Apparation' and a note saying that he'll be needing it, because Apparation classes, although only a few weeks long, will be starting at the beginning of term. He also got his Hogwarts letter, giving him his list of classes and items needed.   
  
He had received his OWL Results sometime back in October. He got an Outstanding in Potions, an Outstanding in DADA, an Excellent in Transfiguration. and so on. So this year, he was taking Advanced Defense against the Dark Arts, Advanced Potions, Advanced Transfiguration, Apparation (For the first 2 weeks, then 'Household Charms' until the end of Christmas Vacation, which is followed by 'Recent History'), Muggle Studies, Advanced Herbology, CoMC, and Advanced Charms.   
  
He'd finished reading the books he got for his Sixteenth birthday by January (He took his time, deciding he'd having nothing else to do all day). Christmas he got a few more books-the usual from Mrs. Weasley. Dumbledore sent him another book-well, technically the Order did, it was on Silent Magic. They decided that it would be best for him to know how to use it, because it'd be easy if he could sneak up on the enemy. So he read that, three times.   
  
It wasn't until the next day that his Uncle, right on schedule for 'The Third Day,' popped his even fatter head up into the attic. "Potter, empty your toilet and take a shower. I expect you to write your letters when you're finished." And then pulled his head back out, thudding could be heard as he trod off down the hall.   
  
Harry stood up, and gathered up the rest of his belongings and shoved them into his trunk, and removed a change of cloths that he hadn't worn in the past year- a pair that he was saving for this day.   
  
After he had emptied his toilet and taken a shower, he moved upstairs, wand in hand (He had taken it with him), towards the attic which he knew his Uncle would be waiting for him.   
  
Vernon was standing in the attic, looking as whaleish as ever, as Harry stuck his head in. Harry hid his wand in his sleeve and stepped into the attic. Deciding he'd try to be as nonviolent about this as possible, he opened his mouth to speak 'I'm leaving now, forever.' But no words came out.   
  
He was slightly confused, and didn't move as the large man moved to him, rather angrily, and grabbed him by the hair of the head, saying something about a letter.   
  
Harry's senses came back to him, and he kicked his uncle in the shin, hard, before jumping back and raising his wand, suddenly thankful for the book that the Order sent him. He suspected that Dumbledore knew he wouldn't be able to speak, though, and decided he'd have a few words with that man. Then he put his reading into action, focusing his eyes on his target. With a swish of his wand, and a clear steady chant of the spell in his mind, he used the stunning charm on his uncle in 2 seconds flat, from the time he raised his wand.   
  
Quite confident in his Silent Magic abilities, he raised his wand to his trunk and magically shrunk it, the same way he had before-thinking the magic instead of saying it. He put the trunk in his pocket, and hid his wand.   
  
He moved to his desk and snatched up his piggy bank before making his way, as silently as possible down the attic ladder, and then the second floor stairs. He left the Dursley's house, for the last time.   
  
He moved down the street, walking at a brisk and purposeful pace, until he finally reached the store he was looking for. He quickly went in and found a bandana that looked good on him-it was dark green with white stars-and wordlessly bought it. He tied it around his head, covering his scar, as he walked towards the bathroom.   
  
Locking himself in, he moved to the mirror, and carefully cast the charms he needed. His hair was past his shoulders and his eyes were a cold gray, like Malfoy's. He charmed his facial hair so he only had some on his chin, in a fairly attractive fashion. He studied himself in the mirror for a while, before head out of the store, and into the back alley.   
  
After preparing himself for Stan and Ern, he raised his wand in a call for the Knight Bus.   
  
He wasn't greeted by Stan, or Ern, but by a dark haired, attractive man. He looked rather mysterious, too.   
  
Attractive? Man? Did those two words fit in the same sentence? Harry looked rather confused, and wasn't hearing a word the man, who also had a low, sexy voice, was saying.   
  
Jackel-that was his name, stopped talking, drawing his features together in a frown. He cleared his throat, refraining from gently jabbing the slightly younger man in front of him. "Sir." He said, loudly.   
  
Harry, startled, gave the man a questioning look. The man continued to frown. "Are you getting on the bus or not? I haven't got all day to stand here and-"   
  
Harry nodded, and the man stepped back, allowing Harry to pass through. Harry was slightly thankful that Ern and Stan weren't there, but he did wonder where they were. At least he'd have some things to think about on this bus.   
  
"Name, sir?" Jackel asked, and Harry opened his mouth to answer, before snapping it shut again, remembering that there wasn't much point in trying to speak.   
  
He shrugged.   
  
Jackel looked slightly annoyed, "Where would your destination be?"   
  
Harry knew he couldn't avoid the question, and tried to think of a way to communicate that he couldn't speak. Harry got an idea, and raised his hands to his throat, making like he was strangling himself.   
  
Jackel picked it up immediately. "You can't talk. All right," He looked slightly less annoyed, and went to get some paper and a quill.   
  
Harry took it and wrote; _'My name is Ishmael O' Leary, and I'm going to Gringotts. I don't need a bed-or cocoa, or anything, thanks. What happened to Ern and Stan?'._   
  
Jackel only took a few moments to read it before looking at Harry. "Stan and Ern were killed by Death Eaters. We'll be at Gringotts in about 15 minutes. That's 11 sickles."   
  
Harry reached into his pocket and handed him all 11 sickles, having counted it out before he left. Thankfully, he had kept some wizard money in his trunk over the year. He moved and took a seat behind the Driver's seat, and Jackel stood beside it. "Mind if I sit?" He asked, the paper pad still in hand. The bus started up, and then took off with a pop.   
  
Harry shook his head.   
  
"My name is Jackel." Jackel said, taking the seat beside Harry. "You must forgive me for being so blunt about Stan and Ern- I never knew them, really. I couldn't tell you more than that, because I didn't know anymore than that. The bus driver's name is Skeeter, by the way. He doesn't speak either."   
  
Harry nodded, and smiled lightly at Jackel. The man was sitting kind of close to Harry now, but Harry, strangely, didn't feel very uncomfortable. He rather liked the closeness of the man.   
  
As Jackel spoke, Harry listened interestedly, obviously not saying a word. Once in a while, Harry would respond by writing something on paper. Harry didn't notice Jackel flirting a little either, nor that he, himself, was flirting in response. He was thinking about the part where he found Jackel attractive, when he first saw him. He never had feelings about guys before, at least, if he did, he ignored them. Now that he thought about it, he did find a lot of guys attractive.   
  
The more he thought about it, the more attractive he found Jackel. The man, who must have been in his early 20s, was tanned, with dark, long hair that had braids throughout it. His eyes were most attractive. They were dark, with long, thick lashes. Jackel also wore a bandana, just not the way Harry did. It was tied to hold some of his hair back, but some braids and hair eluded the clutches of the bandana, attributing to the sexiness of the man.   
  
The driver, Skeeter, made a grunting noise, catching Jackel, and Harry's, attention. He held up five fingers.   
  
"We're going to be there in five minutes." Jackel said, not sure if Harry knew why Skeeter did that. "Where are you planning on going after you stop at Gringotts?"   
  
Harry wrote, _'I'm going to find a quiet, small inn somewhere and stay there, until the school year starts. I go to Hogwarts.'_   
  
"The Unicorn's Horn is a good inn to stay in." Jackel said, "We can wait for you outside Gringotts and show you where it is, if you like. It's a quiet place, I go on my time off to hang about. Not too many people go there, and it is kinda shady, but no one will hurt you. It's rather hard to find, though."   
  
Harry smiled and scribbled, _'That'd be great. Thanks.'_   
  
Jackel grinned at him. "Anytime."   
  
It wasn't much longer until the Knight Bus reached Gringotts. As Harry exited, Jackel stood and told Skeeter that they were to wait for Harry, to bring him to The Unicorns Horn. Skeeter grinned and nodded.   
  
It wasn't long until Harry, who had previously forgotten about getting some wizarding robes, was back on the Knight Bus with some of his money. He decided that he'd wait until after Jackel left to get some clothing and go school shopping.   
  
When they reached The Unicorn's Horn, Jackel smiled and stood, "Come on, I'll bring you in and introduce you. I'll be back in a bit, Skeet." Skeeter nodded, as Jackel stood and let Harry out of the seat.   
  
As they entered The Unicorn's Horn, Jackel's hand found it's way onto Harry's shoulder as he lead Harry to the front counter. As they walked, Harry admired the small, almost empty, Inn. Jackel had been right, it was quiet, and shady. There was about 4 people sitting around, two talking quietly amongst themselves, one sitting back by the fire watching the two that were chatting, and another that was obviously drunk, and practically passed out. Harry grinned, deciding he'd like it here. Even if the characters didn't look like the people from Diagon Alley. They weren't as bad as those from Knockturn Alley.   
  
The place was bright, because of the Noon sun seeping it threw the windows. The floor was wooden, as were the tables and chairs. The fireplace was brick. The ceiling was low with the beans that went across it. Harry couldn't see why they were there, though. There was a second floor to the place, he knew, and the Beams didn't hold a purpose of holding it up. They weren't even close enough, a person could sit on them if he wanted.   
  
The countertop was made of a green and black marble, and the stools were black with green cushions. They looked like the spinny ones. The area behind the counter was taken up by numerous bottles of wines, and a door that sat to the side. Harry suspected it went to the kitchen.   
  
Jackel grinned at the Innkeeper, "Hello, Mason." Mason, the Innkeeper, turned around, and his face lit up when he saw Jackel.   
  
Mason was a short, rather fat man. His robes were very casual if not old looking, and he wore a white apron sort over them. He was balding, and he wore a pair of large, blue-framed glasses.   
  
"Jackel! Good to see you ol' buddy, I see you brought a friend?" He said, his eyes falling on Harry and studying him. Harry unconsciously stepped closer to Jackel, yet smiled pleasantly at the man. He wasn't afraid of Mason, so why had he moved closer to Jackel?   
  
"Yeah." Jackel grinned, "He's going to be staying here for a while, Mason. I need you to hook him up with a room. He can't talk, you see."   
  
Mason nodded, looking back to Jackel. "Is he sound?"   
  
Jackel laughed, and Harry's eyes widened. "Of course he is, he's quite nice actually, he just can't speak. He more capable than half the people you rent to."   
  
Mason looked slightly relieved.   
  
"So what do you say?"   
  
"What's his name?"   
  
"Ishmael O' Leary."   
  
"All right, I'll write him in." He looked at Ishmael, "You're in room 8. There's only two showers in the building, but each room has it's own bathroom. You need to bring your own toothbrush, shampoo, toothpaste, and any other products you like to use." He grinned, "No worries, though, Toilet paper is provided. It's 10 galleons a night. I'll get your key in just a moment."   
  
Harry nodded, and then set the pad of paper Jackel had given him on the counter. He wrote.   
  
_'I was hoping you'd allow me to work for my room and lodgings here. I haven't a lot of money. I promise I'm a hard worker, and experienced at cleaning, I might add.'_ Then, he slid the pad of paper over to Mason.   
  
Mason took a little longer than Jackel would have to read it. When he finished, he looked up at Harry. He looked thoughtful.   
  
After a long moment, Mason spoke, "Okay. This is how it'll work. I'll pay you 3 Galleons an Hour-that's what my Average employee gets paid. Lucky for you, my only employee just quit. You can have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, and you'll work 8 hours a day. That's 24 Galleons a day-Minus 19 for room and other things, then it's 5. You can use the 5 Galleons left for your leisure. Employee's eat free, drink free. Although, you'll be placed in the Employee's Quarters. As you noticed, this building is two stories high. The guest's rooms are down here, through that Hallway-" He motioned to a hallway, "And the Employee's quarters is upstairs. It's not the entire upstairs, just a room a little bigger than a guest room. You get your own Shower and toilet, but please stay out of the storage area. He placed a key on the counter. "Jackel can show you around. He was once an employee here."   
  
Jackel grinned at Harry, "We'll lets get moving." He said, as he snatched the key off the counter. He maneuvered Harry, hand still on his shoulder-actually caressing it slightly, into the hall way to introduce him to the guest rooms.   
  
"The shower rooms are right there-" he said, motioning with his free hand, "You're lucky you don't have to use them, the people here aren't too clean. These are, obviously, the guest rooms. I think you'd like to see your room, though?"   
  
Harry nodded, and as he did, Jackel's hand left his shoulder-the slightly older man moving down the hall. Harry stood still for a moment, rather unhappy about the loss of contact, before following Jackel to a door at the very end. The only door that didn't have a number, but said 'Employees Only.'   
  
Unlocking the door, Jackel pushed it open, allowing Harry to go in before him. The room was quite nice. It had a bed back against the wall, in a corner, with a night stand and an alarm clock beside it. There was a table with a few chairs, and a couch with a fireplace in front of it. The floor was wooden, and the air smelt slightly of Mildew. There were two doors, right next to each other.   
  
"The bathroom is the door closest to the wall. The other door goes to the storage room. Don't bother opening it, Mason keeps it locked."   
  
Harry nodded in acknowledgment.   
  
Jackel stepped into the room, locking it behind him. He started moving slowly towards Harry.   
  
"If you leave, which you probably will, Make sure you remember your surroundings. If you get lost, though, you could always call the Knight Bus." He said, with a grin.   
  
Harry smiled and nodded in agreement, then turned from Jackel, taking in the room that he would be living in for the next month.   
  
Jackel noiselessly moved up behind Harry, and pulled his arms around the slightly younger man's waist. Harry, taken by surprised, suddenly whirled around in Jackel's arms.   
  
Before he could even attempt to utter a word-not that he'd be able to, Jackel's lips crushed against his. Harry's arms went around Jackel's neck, and the latter pulled Harry tightly against him, devouring his mouth. The kiss was heated and slow, it was a long time before the two finally broke apart. Harry's head tilted up, being a few inches shorter than Jackel, and his eyes locking onto the other's.   
  
Jackel grinned at Harry. He'd finally done what he wanted to do when he started to talk to Ishmael a few hours, at most, previous. He had realized that Harry wasn't going to take any initiative, and he was right. Judging by the kiss, Ishmael was rather inexperienced, but a fast learner. He could probably guess that it was the first time Ishmael ever kissed a guy before.   
  
Harry suddenly blushed and moved away about a foot. Since he couldn't speak, the only thing he could do was blush and look at Jackel.   
  
The slightly older man smiled, "I better get going. I'll come back tomorrow, when I get off my shift."   
  
Harry nodded dumbly. Jackel stepped forward and planted a swift kiss on Harry's lips, pressing the room's key into his hand. Then the man was out the door, calling, "See you soon!"   
  
Harry moved to the bed and sat on it, lifting his hand to brush his fingers over his lips, staring fixedly at the wall.   
  
He was just kissed, by a _guy_.   
  
And he loved it.   
  
--   
  
I hope you enjoyed it!  
  
TBC!  
  
Oh, I didn't notice those - three - or so mistakes the first 3 times i read it through, but when i went back to read the chapter for fun, i noticed them, so now they're fixed.  



	3. Discovery

  
  
**Speak to Me**   
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.   
  
**Summary:** Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?   
  
**Warning:** Possibly **A/U,** Mentions of **Abuse**. OotP **Spoilers,** HP/SS **SLASH** (Will be slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some **bad language.**   
  
Author's Note: Thanks, Everyone, again, I'm still astounded by the response I'm getting. I'm afraid it's giving me a bit of an Ego. But I love, it, god, I love it. You're all too kind. I'm hoping to get Harry to school by next chapter. Maybe. I don't know. I did rather jump in with the Jackel/Harry kissing, but it's to show that Jackel and Harry's relationship will be based on lust, as Harry and Severus's will be based on love. The reason Harry never went to his friends over the course of the year is because Death Eater activity had increased immensely, since the news was out about Voldemort. Which is why new wards went up. I'm sorry, should've mentioned it before. As for Harry's wages.. being a 17 year old, I haven't got much of a concept of money and how things works, and I think that shows.   
  
**_Ch. 3 - Discovery_**   
  
--- _  
  
Harry moved to the bed and sat on it, lifting his hand to brush his fingers over his lips, staring fixedly at the wall.   
  
He was just kissed, by a _guy_.   
  
And he loved it._   
  
--   
  
Harry grinned, snapping out of the stupor he was put in from Jackel's amazing kiss. He needed to unpack.   
  
He stood up and removed the shrunken truck from his pocket, and placed it on the floor on front of him. He removed his wand from it's resting spot, and pointed it at the trunk, resizing it.   
  
He moved to his trunk and slowly starting unpacking. He put the books on top of each other in the draws of the night-stand. He put the cloths from the Dursleys, which he realize as he removed them reeked, on the floor beside his trunk. His school robes went on top of that, he'd have to get new ones, because he hit a growth spurt, finally, over the summer.   
  
He stared absently into the trunk for a moment before closing it and moving it against the wall. With a sigh, he pocketed his key and picked up his bag of money, deciding to get his shopping done now. It was still early in the day, around 1 PM.   
  
He moved out of the room and went down the stairs, closing the door at the bottom and locking it. As he started out of the Inn, he stopped by the front counter, picking up his pen and writing on the pad he had left there earlier. Mason turned around to face him, noticing his presence.   
  
_'I'm going shopping for some supplies and such, I'll be back later.'_   
  
"All right." Mason said, and grinned at him, looking up from the paper, "I expect you to start tomorrow at 9 AM, sharp. You don't need to tell me where your going or when or anything, I'm not your parent. Just so long you show up on time for work."   
  
Harry gave a swift nod and headed out of the Inn.   
  
As he stepped out, he did as Jackel told him and studied what was around him.   
  
The Inn looked like a 2-story cottage, and had a nice little chimney to boot. Next to it stood 'Quigley's Potion Shop,' and on the other side 'Yvette's Ice Cream.'   
  
Harry smiled, deciding he'd have to get himself some ice cream, and a lot of it ... later. He moved down the street, and things around him gradually became familiar.   
  
He entered Ursula's Robes, and thankfully found it empty except for the attendant. Ursula-Harry decided that was a her name judging by her name tag-quickly moved over to him.   
  
"My name is Ursula. How my I assist you today?" She said with a bright smile.   
  
Harry smiled, too, and opened his mouth to speak, actually attempting to, and not succeeding. His face reddened slightly, and he shook his head, realizing he left his pad of paper on the counter at The Unicorn's Horn. He held out his hand and pretended to scribble on it with the other.   
  
Ursula smiled and went over behind the counter, digging around for a moment before coming back to him with a pad of paper and a quill.   
  
Harry smiled a thanks, and took the pad gently. He wrote, _'Sorry, I can't talk. I need Hogwart's Robes, and just some casual robes, too. Probably about 4 Casual robes and 3 Hogwarts.'_   
  
He handed the pad to Ursula, who smiled and said, "Of course, dear. What kind of 'casual robes' are you looking for, what colors?"   
  
The "conversation" went on like that for about 10 minutes. Harry picked out a dark blue robe, dark green robe, blood red robe, and a black robe. He bought new socks and -- slightly embarrassed to do so-boxers. He also bought himself a new pair of shoes. He didn't have as large a sum of money in his bag once he finished paying. Just enough left to buy himself shampoo and such.   
  
He found the items he needed-soap, cologne, shampoo, deodorant, etc., at the wizarding shop 'Wizard's World.' He found it to be much like the muggle Wal*Mart, just a wizarding version.   
  
He entered The Unicorns Horn (which he had no difficulty find) with about 4 bags floating in front of him. He liked how the wizarding world had charmed shopping bags to float in front of the person.   
  
Mason gave him a grin, "Welcome back." He said coolly, and then motioned to the white owl standing on the marble counter top. "This owl came by right as you left, she wont leave, I don't suppose you know her?"   
  
Harry grinned and moved over to the counter, picking up the quill, which hadn't moved since he left, and wrote on the pad of paper, _'Yeah, she's mine. Her name is Undine. Which reminds me, I have some letters to write?'_   
  
As Harry wrote, Hedwig fluttered over to him and landed on his shoulder, nipping his ear affectionately. The owner of the inn grinned, reading the parchment.   
  
"You know," Mason said calmly, "there's a store where you can buy a parchment, charmed to write what you think it should. That way you won't have to write every time you need to say something."   
  
Harry smiled at the man and nodded, before taking up the pad of paper and the quill, heading to the 'Employees Only' door. He slid his key into the hole and unlocked it, stepping aside to allow his bags to float up the stairs before him.   
  
When he got up there, Hedwig went and perched on the window cill, and his bags rested down upon his bed. The first thing Harry did was start a fire in his fireplace.   
  
He placed all his new robes into his dresser, along with his practically empty bag of coins, leaving out the dark blue robes. He also put away the other articles he bought, leaving a pair of socks and boxers out. He placed his new shoes beside the dresser, and set his accessories up in the bathroom.   
  
The next thing he did was shower, and change into his brand new sapphire blue robes. The muggle clothing he just wore went into the fireplace. All of his old muggle clothing went into the fireplace, including his old pair of shoes. He put each article in one by one, watching as it burn. With each article, the smile on his face grew bolder. Watching the oversized clothing burn was like watching everything that ever happened at the Dursleys, every thought of ever having to go back to even the muggle world, burn up and turn into ashes. Ashes that would soon be magically disposed of.   
  
The next to go in was the school robes he had outgrown. He knew there was really no need for it, but he felt as if it was the last step to truly freeing himself, allowing himself to live his own life. It was a want to cleanse himself of the old Harry, leaving a nice clean Ishmeal O' Leary.   
  
---   
  
After the ceremonial burning of cloths, Harry couldn't think of much else to do than to empty out his trunk and go through all his old belongings.   
  
There were pairs of socks from the Dursleys that were quickly cast into the fire. His broom, once shrunk to fit into the trunk, was resized and set beside his dresser, the broom cleaning kit on top of the dresser. The crystal ball Remus gave him was set cautiously aside, and all of Mrs. Weasley's sweaters were put carefully into the bottom draw of his dresser. The mirror Sirius had given him was repaired and set on top of his dresser, beside the ruined knife that once belonged to him. Harry put the photo album next to that, partially open.   
  
There were other objects in there. Old text books, that truth detector Ron had given him was still wrapped up in that sock Harry had put it in. Harry didn't take it out, he could see the red lights of it flashing wildly within the sock. He guessed someone had put a silencing charm on it at one point.   
  
---   
  
Harry slid the shower curtain back and stepped inside, closing the curtain, allowing the hot water to wash over him. He reached for the new sponge he bought earlier in the day, and made sure to get it nice and soapy before scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin was raw.   
  
That was his third shower in one day. He couldn't get the dirty feeling off him. All those days he hadn't been able to wash when he wanted to, those times he ran out of toilet paper, the scent of his cloths after months of wearing them. Even the smell of the robes he used as a bed. It was all coming back to him, the dirt, the stench, the feeling, stronger than it was before.   
  
He washed his hair seven times, the feeling of greasiness plaguing his hair. He felt as if it'd never leave.   
  
After much washing and scrubbing, red, dry skin and over-washed hair, the 17 year old slid down into a corner of the shower and let the water beat off him. He tried to think.   
  
He didn't feel so dirty earlier on the bus; but then his mind was occupied by Jackel. Everything leading up to him burning his cloths, he hadn't had time to think, at all. Then, after hours of clothing burning, and the smell of unwashed skin, the attic, and other foul smells that radiated from the unwashed clothing, he had nothing to do. He kept on smelling the dirty cloths and feeling his hair stick to his head, feeling his body being all dirty, his teeth grimy. He couldn't stand it.   
  
Now, with his skin scrubbed raw and hair washed so much it might possibly die and fall out, he felt clean again. How long until it came back, though? Would he always get reminded of that hell he lived in for a year and a half?   
  
Harry cried out as the water suddenly turned ice cold, and he jumped to his feet, turning it off. He frowned, wondering how water could turn cold like that in the wizarding world, when he heard laughter down below.   
  
Mason knocked on the ceiling a few times, and spoke loudly so Harry could hear him through it, "Water costs money, O 'Leary! Try to minimize your usage!"   
  
Harry smiled slightly to himself as he started to dry himself off with a ruby red towel. He knew Mason was serious, even if he sounded like he was kidding.   
  
---   
  
The next day wasn't that bad. He was allowed to do his work with magic, with Mason teaching him all the proper charms. He had to clean the bathrooms and the rooms first thing. Mason had him run the bar for a while he went to run some errands, then set him out to clean the lobby. He had to clean the rooms that had been occupied once again at the end of the day, as well as the bathrooms.   
  
---   
  
That same day, while Harry just got out of the shower, here was a loud knocking on Harry's door.   
  
The young man quickly put on his dark green, velvety robes after drying himself off. He flicked his wand, performing a simple drying spell, then tied his bandana on.   
  
He fled the bathroom and ran down the stairs, opening the door, and grinning as he found Jackel in front of him.   
  
"Ishmael!" Jackel grinned as Harry stepped backwards up the stairs to let him in. Jackel closed and locked the door behind him. Harry continued up the stairs until he reached his room. Jackel was up behind him, engulfing Ishmael in a hug the second the young man turned to him.   
  
Their lips met softly. Jackel only meant to give Ishmael a quick peck on the lips, and then ask him how his day had been, before giving him the charmed parchment that he had bought especially for Ishmael.   
  
He couldn't resist lightly running his tongue over Ishmael's lip, begging for entrance. Ishmael happily obliged, his lips parting and allowing Jackel to deepen the kiss. As a battle between tongues began, their hands were also working. Jackel's hands were inside Ishmael's robes, moving over the innermost layer of his clothing, before firmly grasping the other man's thighs and pulling his body tightly to him. Ishmael let out a low moan, one of his hands curling around Jackel's neck, the other searching for Jackel's hand. Finding it, Ishmael took it, and entwined his fingers though Jackel's, giving the hand a light squeeze.   
  
The kiss broke, the two's need for oxygen had become too great.   
  
Harry backed away, his face flushed. He smiled slightly at Jackel.   
  
Jackel grinned at him. "That was a damned good greeting."   
  
Harry smiled and moved to sit down upon his bed. Jackel moved and sat beside him.   
  
"I've got something for you, I thought you might find it useful." As Jackel spoke, he removed a small thing from his pocket, as well as his wand. Setting the thing on the bed between he and Harry, he magically resized it.   
  
Harry picked it up and grinned, the parchment immediately began writing.   
  
_'Thank you so much! Mason was just telling me about this yesterday, I was going to go get one. Merlin, how could I ever thank you?'_ The words appeared magically, and Ishmael handed the parchment over to Jackel.   
  
Jackel read it, and set the parchment down, locking eyes with Ishmael and grinning at him.   
  
Ishmael grinned back, and leaned to the slightly older man, moving a hand to caress his cheek before entwining his fingers into Jackel's hair. Both men leaned together at once, their lips meeting and becoming quickly heated.   
  
Jackel moved his arms around Ishmael, pulling him onto his lap as the two kissed. Jackel quickly moved his hands, taking hold of Ishmael's and entwining their fingers. He gently broke the kiss, trailing kisses down then other's cheek to his neck. The younger man tilted his head to the side, which Jackel took as an invitation to lick and gently nibble his neck. Harry moaned low, pressing as tightly against Jackel as he could. Jackel emitted a groan, the deepness of it washing over Ishmael's body and sending shivers through it. The two caught in another battle of tongues, which Jackel quickly won.   
  
The two broke apart, Jackel grinning at the sight before him. Ishmael was even more sexy with his face flushed, his full, red lips parted slightly as the air passed through them in irregular breaths. Harry could say the same about Jackel.   
  
---   
  
As the days passed, Harry got used to, and even expected the nightly visits from Jackel. Their fooling around went a little further with each passing night. Harry felt slightly nervous at what was to come, his mind telling him he wasn't quite ready for what Jackel might have planned. He wasn't ready to do anymore than just snogging and exploring. He still loved and looked forward to Jackel's visits.   
  
It was about a week and a half later, that fateful day that Jackel came knocking at Ishmael's door. Harry was, once again, just getting out of the shower.   
  
In his excitement to meet him, Ishmael dressed quickly, dried his hair, and flew from the bathroom, completely forgetting his green bandana.   
  
Jackel noticed it gone almost immediately. Well, if you leave out the quick snogging session they had before they "verbally" greeted each other. Harry couldn't really verbally greet Jackel, but he could have his charmed parchment greet him. Anyway, Jackel noticed it after the two broke apart from their heated kisses.   
  
Jackel grinned at Ishmael, "I see you're not wearing that bandana today."   
  
Harry looked slightly confused.   
  
Jackel reached his hand up to Ishmael's hair, "Your bandana, it's. What's that?" he was brushing a piece of Harry's hair to the side, revealing the very well pronounced lightning shaped scar on Harry's head.   
  
Jackel retreated a few steps as Harry's eyes widened, realizing what's happened. He forgot his bandana. Jackel saw his scar.   
  
"Bloody hell," Jackel muttered, "you're a goddamn liar. I've been up here with Harry Potter, snogging with him, under the false idea that he was a man named Ishmael O' Leary. Why? Why the hell didn't you tell the truth on the bus? Or even after?"   
  
Harry slumped down into his chair, the parchment Jackel bought him floating over in front of Jackel.   
  
_'I'm sorry, I ran away from my Aunt and Uncles house, and I didn't want the Headmaster to find me, or anyone from. Hogwarts, for that matter. It was the only way I could keep it all secret. I thought about telling you.'_ Harry's eyes were downcast at the floor. He felt sick inside.   
  
"But you thought I'd rat you out? Couldn't trust me with your secret? That's why you always worse that bloody Bandana. You must have charms all over you.." He stopped speaking suddenly, then, withdrew his wand from his robes, moving to Harry. He waved his wand over Harry, "Finite Incantatium."   
  
Harry's hair quickly shrunk back down the size, his eyes turning back to their brilliant green color, and his other features disappeared to reveal to once hidden face of Harry Potter.   
  
Jackel stared at him for a moment before speaking, "You're even more sexy without the charms." He said softly, almost drawing up to Harry to kiss him, before stopping himself. "Can you even talk? Of course you can, how else could you cast the charms? My god, why the hell would you lie about that? What else have you lied about?"   
  
New words appeared on the parchment. Jackel read it.   
  
_'I can't talk, I really can't. I've tried and it doesn't work. I was sent a book of Silent Magic from Hogwarts. I suspect they somehow learned of my inability to communicate. I haven't lied about anything else. Honestly.'_   
  
Jackel started at the parchment for a moment before looking at Harry sadly, "I've got to go. Maybe I'll come back. I need to think."   
  
Words appeared on the parchment, but Jackel ignored them, turning to the door.   
  
Harry jumped from his chair, running in front of him to stop him. Jackel glared, "What the hell do you want?" he hissed, ignoring the hurt look in Harry's eyes. The parchment presented itself between he and Harry.   
  
_'Please don't tell anyone who I am. Anyone at all. I really am sorry, Jackel...'_   
  
Jackel read it, and shoved it aside, giving Harry a disgusted look. "Don't worry," He said calmly, his eyes hot with anger, "I wont say a word. Please move."   
  
Harry hung his head and stepped aside, allowing Jackel to leave his room.   
  
---   
  
Hope ya liked it, lemmie know what you think. Feel free to point out any errors, because I don't always catch them, and neither does my spell check. I read through it like three times, too!   



	4. Meetings

  
  
**Speak to Me**   
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.   
  
**Summary:** Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?   
  
**Warning:** Possibly **A/U,** Mentions of **Abuse**. OotP **Spoilers,** HP/SS **SLASH** (Will be slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some **bad language. Possible Strong prejudice against Gays, as well as Apathy towards them and nasty remarks.**   
  
Author's Note: Yes, I did get the idea for Jackel's looks from Jack Sparrow. Come on, he's dead sexy, I couldn't help it. As for Harry not talking, perhaps the summary didn't make it clear. Harry CAN talk. That's why Snape is going to teach him to talk again. He's forgotten to, forgotten how to. There's not enough motivation there for him to talk, therefore he doesn't, even though he tried. It's a subconscious thing, really. And Jackel can get as mad as he wants to at anything, maybe you didn't notice; He's MY character. I made his personality. You don't know him. I do. Now that that's settled. one last note. There's going to be prejudice against gays in my story, strong prejudice in some cases. Apathy in others. Nasty remarks about gays. I decided in my RoR story I like writing it that way. In this one it's going to be with most pureblood families, simply because gays couldn't exactly carry on the bloodlines unless they found a willing woman ... somehow.   
  
**_Ch. 4 - Meetings_**   
  
---   
  
_'Please don't tell anyone who I am. Anyone at all. I really am sorry, Jackel...'_   
  
Jackel read it, and shoved it aside, giving Harry a disgusted look. "Don't worry," He said calmly, his eyes hot with anger, "I wont say a word. Please move."   
  
Harry hung his head and stepped aside, allowing Jackel to leave his room.  
  
--   
  
Harry sat down on his bed and put his face in his hands, feeling a slow, burning pain in the pit of his stomach, slowing rising him to his throat. He felt his throat constrict painfully with unshed tears. He shouldn't have lied. Now, once again, he was left with no one. Why couldn't he have told Jackel who he was in the first place? After Jackel had gotten to know him, it would've worked out fine. He would have known by then that Jackel didn't like him just because of the scar on his forehead.   
  
He removed his hands from his face and laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the burning not going away. He wanted to be held. He needed to feel cared for. He liked the warmth of friendship, or in the case of Jackel, love. Or was it love?   
  
Harry shook his head, he didn't care. He wasn't going to analyze his feelings. He had failed at this. It was time to move onto something else. Why bother with something that made him feel bad?   
  
He breathed deeply and focused on work. That made him feel good, making his own money, earning his own living. But he only had a few weeks left before he went to school, and less time before he was caught.   
  
The next week and a half went by swiftly, with no sign of Jackel. Mason never mentioned his name, yet watched Harry ominously. Harry got the feeling that Jackel had told Mason what was going on. If he did, Mason didn't say a word. No one had come to bother him yet.   
  
Until now.   
  
Mason had taken the day off, and decided that Ishmael could handle the bar. He agreed, and was pleasantly leaning over his Occulmency book when the worn door of the inn was pushed swiftly open.   
  
Harry marked his place, and swiftly snapped the book shut, shoving it under the counter. The man had brilliant dark green and black robes on, which swirled about him in a way that reminded Harry of Hogwarts. Ishmael quickly turned his back to the counter, pretending to be studying the bottles. What was Snape doing here?   
  
The man took a seat on the stool behind the counter and drummed his fingers. Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, reminding himself he had concealment charms on, and that it might no even be Snape.   
  
"Where's Mason?" Snape said, ensuring Harry that it was, indeed, him. Harry didn't move an inch. Harry bit his lip. He'd have to face him. "Excuse me," He spoke, irritation evident, "I demand that you face me this instant."   
  
Harry gulped, put up a mask, and turned to face his potion's master, hoping that he wouldn't recognize him.   
  
Severus studied him for a moment, "Where is Mason?" He said again, narrowing his eyes at the man behind the counter. There was something all too familiar about him.   
  
Ishmael slid the pad in front of the spy, as it slowly wrote in neat penmanship, _"He's out."_   
  
"Do you know when he'll be back?"   
  
_"Three hours."_   
  
Snape smirked and leaned back on his stool, kicking his feet onto the counter. He stared at Harry.   
  
Harry forced himself not to fidget. The pad scrawled, _"Sir?"_ But Snape didn't notice. Harry motioned towards the paper.   
  
Severus studied it for a moment, before smirking at him, "I'm waiting for Mason. Plus, you look familiar. I'm trying to place how."   
  
_"Perhaps I'm just one of those familiar people. Also, Mason wont be back for three hours. Would you like anything to drink, eat, or read while you wait, Sir?"_   
  
So Snape relented, asking for the special; Toasted Cheese sandwiches and Tomato Soup. He got a glass of milk to drink with it.   
  
The next few ours went without event, and very little chatter. Harry hid his face from view whenever possible. When Mason arrived, he immediately ushered Snape into the storage room to chat.   
  
The next few days went without event, and Snape didn't turn up again. Harry never found out what they were discussing in the storage room.   
  
It wasn't long before Harry found himself in his usual form, with his usual muggle clothing and all that usual stuff (except for the bandana which he had grown to love), outside, in the alley near The Unicorn's Horn, all concealment charms off. Quietly pulling a hooded cloak over him, he hung his head and made his way towards The Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to be there when the Knight bus dropped Ron and Hermione off. To get one last look at Jackel. Jackel, whom he missed dearly.   
  
Hedwig had been bringing Harry letters from the two frequently over the past weeks. They corresponded smoothly, Harry writing long detailed letters about the Dursleys, and how they made him get a job, but how it wasn't that bad.   
  
He wasn't sure, he thought he might have professed his homosexuality by accident in the last letter he wrote. Harry may have written that he met a great guy, but quickly lost contact with him. He was sure he did. He wondered how Ron had taken the news.   
  
He shifted anxiously as he heard a loud pop and saw the Knight bus roll up. Keeping his hood up, he moved and stood by the door, eyes downcast.   
  
Jackel slowly moved off the bus, looking slightly furious, but also appearing to have a mask in place. He moved to the other side of the door, Harry having taken his place, and held the door open. He stared curiously at the stranger in front of him.   
  
The Weasley twins got off first, followed by Ginny and the Weasley parents.   
  
"Ron, just be nice to him. He's your friend, you should care about him not matter what his-"   
  
"Don't even say it Hermione. It's disgusting and unnatural."   
  
"Monkeys do it."   
  
"He'll never have a hair."   
  
Ron and Hermione's voice echoed inside as they were soon filing off the bus. The look of agitation increased on Jackel's face, and he stared daggers at Ron. Harry wondered if he knew who Ron was talking about.   
  
"You mean heir. And so what? As long as he finds someone he loves-"   
  
"Hermione," Ron hissed, stepping off the buss finally and letting her off, "He can't fall in love with a guy. It's just not right,"   
  
_'You Jackass,'_ Harry thought, staring angrily at Ron.   
  
Jackel snapped back to reality. "Thank you for riding the night bus. Just give you wand a wave if you ever need us again." With that, the irate man started onto the first step of the bus. Just as everyone, excluding the still silently arguing Ron and Hermione, started to move inside, Harry caught his arm; catching the attention of Jackel and the Gryffindors.   
  
Jackel stopped, "I knew it was you." He said softly and moved back to the ground.   
  
Harry reached into his pocket and placed the magic writing pad in Jackel's hands.   
  
_"I miss you,"_ It scribbled, _"Please forgive me."_   
  
Jackel stared at the writing for a moment, and nodded slightly. "I forgive you... I may have over reacted. I just don't like being lied to.." Then he trailed off, and motioned to the curious onlookers. The two onlookers who strangely haven't moved into the Leaky Cauldron to wait for Harry yet. They were staring suspiciously at the cloaked figure. "Are you ... they.."   
  
Harry nodded, and breathed deeply, slowly lowering his hood, locking gaze with Hermione, and then Ron.   
  
Hermione's eyes widened and she smiled, a sad, sorry smile. Ron's eyes bulged, and he looked form Jackel, to Harry.   
  
"Sick." Was the first word Ron heard, "Disgusting. I couldn't believe it. I was hoping it was some sort of cruel joke. Or maybe you wasn't thinking and wrote it wrong. I would have never suspected. Harry, that's gross, how could you?" Ron took a menacing step towards Harry. Hermione put her hand on Ron's arm.   
  
"Ron, please-"   
  
"Asshole," Jackel snapped, cutting Hermione off, his eyes darkening as he glared at Ron. He started to pull his wand from his robes. "I've been wanting to hex you the entire ride-"   
  
"Unfortunately. I can't allow you to harm him." A deep male voice drawled from the leaky cauldron doorway as Severus Snape stepped through, in swirling green and silver robes that looked incredible on him. "And I'm not sure Mr. Potter here would allow you to, anyway."   
  
Harry stared at his professor for a moment, in unblinking surprise at the effect a change of robes had on the man. She he noticed at the Unicorn's Horn, but these weren't as dark and looked more brilliant. He quickly concluded that Snape must not have heard anything before that. Which was a good thing, since he didn't need Snape pestering him about loosing a friend.   
  
By the time Snape ended his brief speech, his wand was out and pointed at Jackel. Ron had backed away from Harry, and was attempting to glare daggers at both Jackel and Harry. Hermione was quietly trying to calm him, all the while wondering how Harry met a wizard in a muggle store.   
  
_"Listen to him. He won't hesitate to harm you. He's the potions master at Hogwarts, very evil,"_ The worlds scribbled quickly onto the parchment that was still in Jackel's hands.   
  
Jackel nodded and slowly lowered his wand, putting it back into his robes. He turned to look at Skeeter, and waved to him in a signal telling him to leave without. The bus was gone in an instant, but not without a few puts and a loud crack.   
  
Snape's eyebrows narrowed dangerously, and the five stood in silence.   
  
"Would any of you care to explain what is going on here?" Severus inquired elegantly, eyes resting on the parchment in Jackel's hands, showing a faint recognition of the object. They moved suddenly to Ron, then Hermione, then Jackel, and stopped on Harry. He studied him for a moment, eyes brushing over the bandana. Then, looking as if he just figured something out, he raised his eyebrows in question.   
  
When Harry didn't respond, Snape glared and hissed, "Speak up, Potter. We need to get inside before anyone recognizes you, or sees you," he smirked, deciding that the young man was very good at acting. How did he manage to leave without the Order noticing?   
  
"Come on, Hermione. I can't be near it any longer. It's making me sick."   
  
"Mr. Weasley," Snape snarled at the boy, "care to share what you're whining about?"   
  
"_That_!" Ron said, pointing at Harry, glaring all the same.   
  
Jackel went to attack Ron, but Harry's arms went around him from behind, stopping him. Severus stood speechless, though looking mildly amused.   
  
Ron yanked on Hermione's arm. Hermione threw Harry a helpless look, and followed Ron into the Leaky Cauldron.   
  
Harry stepped away from Jackel.   
  
"I'm waiting." Snape said, simply, not looking the least bit disturbed by the display. Only slightly surprised.   
  
"He can't talk." Jackel offered, frowning at the rudeness of Harry's teacher.   
  
"Nonsense. He's only trying to get attention. Speak up, Potter, before I'm forced to-" As he spoke, he stepped menacingly toward Harry, his lip curling. Was Potter stupid enough to give himself away by using the object?   
  
"He can't talk." Jackel said more sternly, crossing his arms and giving Snape a rivaling glare after cutting him off.   
  
"It's rude to interrupt. I suppose he just lost his voice in the past year and a quarter." The potions master said, dripping with sarcasm. His eyebrow raised when Potter nodded slowly.   
  
"You're one to speak of rudeness," Jackel spat.   
  
"Perhaps I'd be more inclined to believe you had your letters indicated this truthfulness of the situation. As it is, I know you're just going for attention. I wont stand for this any longer. You're to come inside, now. Bring your friend with you, as it wont do to have a man running around with the knowledge of Harry Potter's whereabouts." He turned on his heel and strode into the Leaky cauldron, smirking to himself. He'd have fun with this.   
  
Harry put his hood up and followed after him, Jackel bringing up the rear.   
  
Tonks and Moody were awaiting inside near the Weasleys. Everyone looked up as Harry approached them, greeting him. Mrs. Weasley engulfed him in a warm hug. No one glanced at Jackel, except Ron, who was glaring at him, and Hermione, who was appreciating his good looks. Snape was staring darkly at Jackel, too, trying to figure him out.   
  
"Potter," Snape said, catching everyone's attention as Mrs. Weasley released Harry. "Care to introduce your new ... friend?" He spoke, with an elegant gesture towards Jackel. Kill two birds with one stone.   
  
Everyone's gaze went expectantly from Harry to Jackel, but Harry glared at Snape. Harry instinctively, from a month's conditioning, lifted his wand and flicked it, allowing the parchment to move and hover in front of Snape.   
  
_"What are you doing here? Don't you have better things to do than torture me?"_ The pad scrawled in an angry red color.   
  
Severus narrowed his eyes and gave Harry his best death glare. Harry merely countered with a rivaling glare.   
  
"I am here for your protection, Mr. Potter, however you may feel you might not need it." As Snape spoke, puzzled looks came over the faces of the Weasleys. Harry hadn't said a word.   
  
Harry motioned for the parchment to float, so everyone could see it. He wasn't going to argue with Snape right now. it was too hard to hold an argument like that when you can't talk.   
  
_"This is Jackel, as I'm sure you know from your ride. I met him over break and we became very good friends."_ The pad scribbled, coming out in a calm blue color. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley smiled and nodded politely at Jackel, before giving Harry a confused look about the pad.   
  
Severus smirked, saying almost incoherently, "I'll say." He got the distinct impression there was something more than that.   
  
Ron scoffed, "Good Friends? Is that what you call it? Because-"   
  
"Ron!" Hermione said sharply, cutting him off. George and Fred started snickering, and their parents looked shocked at Ron.   
  
Snape looked specially irritated, but somewhat pleased. He meant for Harry to introduce Jackel as what he was to him, what he really was. At least he exposed Harry's inability to speak.   
  
The Weasleys (Excluding Ron), Moody, and Tonks were looking curiously at Harry.   
  
Harry sighed slightly, and the pad wrote, "_I can and will explain everything later. Lets just enjoy this first, please."_   
  
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, "Shall we begin shopping, then? Jackel, you are welcome to join us." The pad floated back over to Harry, and he pocketed it.   
  
"Thank you." Jackel said kindly. The group: Jackel, Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Snape, Moody, and Tonks, all started out of the Leaky Cauldron. A funny looking lot they were. Snape brought up the rear, right behind Jackel and Harry.   
  
As they walked, Hermione fell back away from the fuming Ron, next to Harry and Jackel.   
  
"How did you meet Harry?" Hermione said softly, smiling gently at Jackel. Maybe Jackel didn't know Harry had lied about it.   
  
Jackel glanced at Harry, who reached into his robes and pulled out the enchanted pad.   
  
_"I will explain later, Hermione. When it's appropriate timing."_   
  
Hermione gave him a suspicious look and nodded. The entire trip through Diagon Alley, Hermione had given him suspicious looks, and Ron flashed him a few disgusted ones.   
  
As they turned to go into the book store, Snape caught Harry's shoulder. "Potter, we need to talk."   
  
Jackel stopped to stand beside Harry, but Snape sneered at him. "Privately." Harry nodded to Jackel, who turned and moved into the book store.   
  
"I didn't recognize you then, Potter, but I do now. The Headmaster will not be pleased at all."   
  
_"Why are you so damned determined to make me miserable?"_ The pad scrawled in red, and Harry showed it to Snape.   
  
"I don't need my reasons, Potter. You're enough of an excuse. You take everything for granted. The protection of the house you live in, the godlike treatment of your home life, the protection of the order, the unearned admiration of many, including the headmaster."   
  
_"You forgot fame."_ The pad scribbled in a blood red color. Harry was bursting with anger.   
  
Snape shoved him back against the shop's window, his lip curling, "How dare you speak to me in such a way, Potter. You know nothing about me."   
  
_**"I could say the same about you!"**_ The parchment scrawled quickly. Snape shoved the parchment to Harry's chest and shoved him to the door of the bookstore.   
  
"Get inside."   
  
And so he did.   
  
The rest of the day passed without event, and Harry soon found himself hugging Jackel, and sneaking him a quick kiss after everyone got off the Knight Bus.   
  
12 Grimmauld Place was completely rearranged, even the pictures were gone. Harry was led to the dining table to sit, so they could eat and have a discussion.   
----   
OKAY! I'm done with that chapter. Was it worth the wait? I hope so. I worry It might not have been. I know I don't like the idea of Snape being violent like that, but you'll find out why in later chapters. Much down the road. I had a dream the other night that gave me a great idea. Yeah, I dream about HP, creepy, huh? Only once in a great while. Anyway, I'm sorry about the wait, I've been *VERY* busy. 


	5. Trust

  
  
**Speak to Me**   
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.   
  
**Summary:** Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?   
  
**Warning:** Possibly **A/U,** Mentions of **Abuse.** OotP **Spoilers**, HP/SS **SLASH** (Will be slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some bad **language.** Possible Strong **prejudice** against Gays, as well as Apathy towards them and nasty remarks.   
  
  
_**Ch. 5 - Trust**_   
  
  
---  
  
  
Dinner didn't truly start until the group was joined by Dumbledore and Remus. As the meal started, Harry would occasionally sit back and watch everyone chatter, since he hadn't anyone to distract him.   
  
Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, Snape to his left and Remus to his right. Harry was next to Remus, and was followed by Tonks, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The seat next to Snape was empty, but the one next to that had Moody, then George, Fred, and Molly. Arthur Weasley sat at the other head of the table.   
  
Dumbledore and Remus were engaged in conversation. Harry supposed it was to do with the Order. He noted that Snape would elegantly add little comments to their conversation, but never really joined in. It seemed to Harry that he wanted to, though.   
  
Tonks was talking excitedly to Moody, who would nod every so often and comment. Harry noticed a bit of flirtation between the two once in a while. Harry also noticed that once in a while Moody's fake eyeball would stare at him.   
  
Hermione and Ginny would giggle randomly, and Ron was talking to Fred and George about their newest trick, or at least, Harry suspected he was.   
  
Harry also noticed that besides Moody, he would earn worried glances from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, an ominous look from Dumbledore, and a smirk from Snape. Whenever there was a pause in conversation, Remus would glance at Harry like he wanted to say something, but fidget nervously and speak to Dumbledore again.   
  
He was barely spoken to the entire meal, except for when Tonks asked him how he was. Time seemed to slow down for Harry, and he felt like everyone was looking at him. So he had slowly withdrew his enchanted pad and let it scribble, _"I've been great, thanks, yourself?"_   
  
Tonks had smiled warmly, said she was great, looked awkward, and started talking to Moody again.   
  
When the meal finally ended, the new house elf, Trigol, came in and removed everything.   
  
The Weasleys ushered their children out, including Hermione who wasn't really theirs. Moody and Tonks excused themselves, glancing at Dumbledore, and followed the Weasleys out.   
  
Harry pushed his chair back, not having been asked to stay, but not being told to leave.   
  
"No, no, my dear boy. Sit, relax." Dumbledore smiled warmly.   
  
Harry nodded slightly and shuffled his chair back to where it was.   
  
"Did you get the information required from Mason, Severus?" Dumbledore asked softly, turning his attention to him. Remus fidgeted again, casting a nervous look to Harry.   
  
"Yes, I tried to have it sent to you but Yvette could not find you, and naturally the staff didn't know where you were."   
  
"For my protection, of course. What do you think of the man? Is he Order material?"   
  
"I hardly think I'm the right person to ask."   
  
"Ah, but Severus, you're the only person to ask."   
  
Harry's eyes widened and he stared at Severus, the wheel in his head slowly turning. Snape met with Mason because Mason wanted to join the Order.   
  
"Very well. I feel Mason has enough to offer to the Order, such as lodging and secret keeping. His Inn has been protected by his magic for years, stopping evil from even seeing it. He is also stupid and irritating, of course."   
  
"Is his heart in it, Severus?" Dumbledore leaned back, twinkling blue orbs boring into Snape's.   
  
The spy stiffened in his chair slightly and was silent, his hand moving to his chin and his head lowing slightly, causing his black hair to fall only slightly around his face, as he thought.   
  
Remus slowly pushed to his feet. "I'm going to get tea. I'll be back in a few minutes." He said softly, and walked into the kitchen.   
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly as he watched Snape. Harry was also watching Snape, not noticing the swift lustful thoughts that passed through his mind.   
  
If he did notice the thoughts, he quickly wrote them off. Snape was his professor, and any thoughts he had about him were strictly because he rather enjoyed the dark, intimidating, men with strong personalities. Jackel had a very strong personality. The only reason he was considering Snape like that was because the Professor emited the same aura. Yes, that was it.   
  
"He is sincerely against the dark side." Snape said softly, "He has a small passion for it, although his passion for his Inn overrides it. His heart is in it, yes."   
  
"Than we shall instate him. If you'll excuse me a moment, I think I'll get some of the tea with Remus. Anything for you two?"   
  
"No thank you." Snape said simply.   
  
Harry just shook his head. Dumbledore smiled and stood, exiting the room.   
  
Harry stared at the countertop, and jumped a little at Snape's voice, not expecting it.   
  
"Yes, Potter. That is why I was there. Mason never said a word to you about it?"   
  
Harry glanced up at Snape, and the pad wrote slowly, in a black, neutral color. _"I hadn't the slightest clue that you would be there, and he never mentioned you once, or the Order."_   
  
"As it is expected," Snape murmured softly.   
  
Harry shifted uneasily in his chair, wondering when Snape was going to tell the Headmaster, or what. He stopped shifting once he felt Snape's cold gaze upon him.   
  
"Did he know who you were?"   
  
_"No, sir."_   
  
"How did you get the concealment charms on if you couldn't talk, Potter?"   
  
_"The Headmaster sent me a book on Silent Magic."_   
  
"I'm amazed that you were capable to comprehend it." Snape said with a smirk, "Or the time to bother with it."   
  
_"Being locked in an attic with nothing to do does tend to free up a persons time."_   
  
The older man raised his eyebrows questioningly, "How did you loose your voice, anyway, Potter? Magical accident?" He said, rather smugly, as Dumbledore and Remus entered the dining room.   
  
Dumbledore took his seat, but Remus moved to the other door.   
  
"I'm off. I have some business I need to take care of. Have a goodnight, Harry."   
  
_"Goodnight, Remus."_ The paid wrote slowly. Remus, after studying the pad, gave Harry a nervous half smile.   
  
"I was slightly curious about that." Dumbledore said with a smile to Harry, and Remus left.   
  
Harry stared down at the table top, thinking. He knew what Dumbledore was referring to. He couldn't very well tell them about the Dursleys, how he hadn't talked for a year. They wouldn't believe him. They'd be more apt to believe the sort of line Snape suggested, more ready to believe he's an idiot.   
  
Harry stared guiltily at his hands as the enchanted pad wrote, in a purple color.   
  
_"Professor Snape is right. It was a magical accident. I was being irresponsible, trying to frighten my cousin, and my spell backfired."_   
  
Snape smirked in a very satisfied manner, and Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat and looked disapprovingly at Harry.   
  
"Magic is not a game, Harry. It is not to be used to frighten muggles, either. I'll have Poppy come and look at you soon, perhaps she can find a way to reverse the accident. Do you, by chance, remember what spell you used?"   
  
Harry shook his head.   
  
Dumbledore peered through his glasses, and Harry forced himself to look back, and not fidget.   
  
"Very well." Albus turned his attention to Severus, "Was there something either of you wanted to share with me?"   
  
Harry didn't move, except to drop his gaze to the table top, waiting for Snape to tell the Headmaster all about what happened.   
  
Severus threw a small glance at Harry, then smirked.   
  
"I have some news regarding our young Harry Potter." Snape said calmly, dark orbs resting on the younger man. Harry forced himself not to fidget, once again.   
  
"And what would that be, my dear Severus?"   
  
"It appears our Golden Boy has been lying to us, endangering his life, and that of our prospective order member."   
  
Dumbledore frowned, "How so?"   
  
"I'm not sure how long he has been doing it, but the day I went to The Unicorn's Horn to speak with Mason, Harry here was tending the bar. He was under dozens of charms, and wore a bandana to cover up his scar."   
  
"How did you realize it was him, and why did you not notify me immediately?"   
  
"I didn't realize it was him until today. He had that pad, and that bandana."   
  
Dumbledore's gaze leveled on Harry, watching him carefully.   
  
"Harry... Is this true?"   
  
Harry looked at the table still, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. True, Snape didn't have enough proof it was him, but all he had to do was ask around. He had also learned a long time ago that lying to the Headmaster never helped.   
  
_"Yes, Sir."_ Harry raised his eyes, guiltily, to meet the Headmaster's.   
  
"Perhaps you would offer an explanation as to why you would do this?"   
  
Harry's gaze moved to Snape as the pad wrote, _"If he leaves."_   
  
"Severus has just as much right to know why as I do, Harry. Compared to him, my work no where near amounts to his."   
  
"You flatter me." Severus said, smirking slightly at Harry.   
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to give in but knowing if he didn't, then the possibility that he'd be sent back to the Dursley's was increased.   
  
The pad began to write slow and plain, in a dark blue, _"When I turned 17, I packed all my things and managed to escape the Dursley's home. I called for the Knight Bus, and had them bring me to Gringotts. While on the bus, I met Jackel, who told me of a great place I could stay, since I mentioned I was looking. He brought me to the Unicorn's Horn and Mason gave me a job. Neither of them knew who I was. I went under the alias of 'Ishmael O'Leary."_   
  
"Why did you run away, Harry? Were you aware that you were endangering your life, and then those of which were in the Inn?"   
  
Snape leaned back, smirking smugly at Harry, waiting for the answer, his eyes glancing at the pad every few moments.   
  
_"Yes, sir. I was well aware.,"_ Harry's eyes watched Snape intensely,_"They locked me in the attic, made me use a port-a-potty, and every 3 day's they had me empty it, and only then was I allowed to shower. They generally only gave me bread and water to eat and drink, when they remembered. I wasn't allowed to make a noise, because they put devices around the room that let them know when I did. I think perhaps they were afraid I was going to say a spell of some sort. I couldn't stay there. I'm sick of living like that."_   
  
"Why didn't you write to us, to tell us?"   
  
Severus's brows creased, black orbs flaring up in anger. He still said nothing.   
  
Harry was looking at Dumbledore now, who seemed to find Severus's anger amusing. _"My Uncle Vernon leaned over my shoulder while I wrote to you, every three days. I couldn't say anything. I hoped that Ron her Hermione or someone would noticed that they were shorter.."_   
  
"Ron mentioned it, but we thought that perhaps you really were occupied. We had hoped the Order members had scared them straight."   
  
Snape slammed his hand down on the table and stood up in anger, his chair falling over, eyes full of rage. "How could you believe this nonsense, Albus?" His voice was low, calm, and dangerous. Harry would have preferred it if he was loud and yelling, but the man seemed to be forcing himself not to. At least he didn't tip the table over. "Port-A-Potty? Bread and water? Reading his letters over the shoulder? He's clearly had a long time to think about a good story for leaving! They wouldn't treat their precious Harry that way-" His voice was rising, louder and louder, and he snatched up Harry's paper pad and pegged it at a picture, causing it to shake and fall to the floor. "He probably left because they tried to ground him for that stupid stunt he pulled on his cousins! Don't be fooled by his pitiful act, Albus-"   
  
"SIT DOWN, Severus!" Dumbledore cut him off, eyes blazing up. Harry remained silently fuming, burning with anger really, but having no way to vent it except on the paper, which was presently on the floor under a picture. Harry slowly stood and started to the picture. Severus stood still for a moment, staring relentlessly at Albus, the anger dying down to disappointment. He started pacing back in forth near Albus, not too far in any direction.   
  
"I believe Harry."   
  
"You didn't believe me. You never had. When will you ever trust me?" He stopped, turning to the Headmaster.   
  
Albus looked sorrowfully at Snape. "I do trust you, Severus, on any subject but this one. You've created some world for Harry that doesn't exist, your view of him is clouded by his father-"   
  
"You know nothing of the misery that child has put me in. Nothing of either of the Potters. Nothing." He said softly.   
  
"It is you that knows nothing, Severus."   
  
"You trust them more than you do I."   
  
Harry was kneeling by the picture, watching the scene with wide eyes. He looked away quickly when he felt Snape's cold gaze on him, then moved and lifted the picture.   
  
"I do not. I have my reasons for doing the things I do, Severus,-"   
  
"When, Albus," Snape moved close to Albus, dropping his voice so low Harry couldn't make out what he said, "Will I ever be good enough to measure up to the Potters? What do I have to do?" Before the older man could answer, Snape, turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, robes billowing behind him threateningly.   
  
Harry re-hung the picture and picked up his pad, moving back over near the headmaster.   
  
Dumbledore nodded solemnly, and slowly stood, "You mustn't repeat this conversation Harry, to anyone. Never mention it, never ask about it. It's best you forget about it."   
  
_"Yes, Sir."_ Harry handed the pad to the Headmaster. He had no intention of repeating it; nor did he have intentions of forgetting it.   
  
"I have business to take care of, I wont see you until you're back in school next week. You'll be staying here. Remus has something he needs to speak with you about, and Moody, Tonks, and Professor Snape art going to be teaching you each day this coming week to prepare you for the war to come."   
  
_"Thank you, sir."_   
  
Albus smiled, "I think it's time for an old man like myself to get some shut eye. I will show you where your room is first. I'll have Mason bring your belongings here tomorrow."   
  
_"He's going to be told who I am?"_   
  
"Yes, Harry." Albus said with a smile, and moved to the kitchen door after handing Harry his writing pad back. "Shall we?"   
  
Harry nodded and followed.   
  
  
--   
  
  
Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please report any mistakes. ^^ And I made you wait for it too, but I've still been really busy. But I have vacation this week, so maybe ill write another chapter soon, if I get bored. Don't expect it though.   
I still haven't given up on the story. Next chapter I'm probably going to give a showing of the lessons he's taking with Moody, Tonks, and Snape..   
Review! I'd love to hear what you have to say! 


	6. Lessons

  
  
**Speak to Me**  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.  
  
**Summary:** Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?  
  
**Warning:** Possibly **A/U,** Mentions of **Abuse.** OotP **Spoilers**, HP/SS **SLASH** (Will be HP/SS slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some bad **language.** Possible Strong **prejudice** against Gays, as well as Apathy towards them and nasty remarks.  
  
_**Ch. 6 - Lessons**_  
  
---  
  
It was the next morning when Harry woke that he heard voices coming from down the stairs. He stretched and yawned; a yawn which consisted only of the sound of air leaving and entering his mouth with terrible force, no vocals were included. There wasn't much point in trying to sleep anymore, anyway. His body still hadn't adjusted to using beds.  
  
Harry quickly got up, out of bed, and got dressed. He pressed his hair down flat with his hands and made his way down the stairs, silently, to see what the commotion was.  
  
"Perhaps we should wake Harry so you two can say good-bye to him?" Molly Weasley's voice echoed through the corridor.  
  
Hermione perked up, and opened her mouth to say yes, but was stopped by Ron's warning tone. His tone, which warned Hermione, sounded honest and worried about his friend's well being.  
  
"We should let him sleep," Ron said softly, "he's always had a hard time sleeping, I'd hate to ruin whatever time he has sleeping by waking him."  
  
"How thoughtful of you." Harry saw Mrs. Weasley's lips curl into a smile as he stepped onto the landing. The woman hadn't seen him; she was smiling at her son. "Although, I would have liked to give him a hug. That boy-"  
  
Harry cleared his throat in interruption, smiling at her, her not wanting to hear her finish her sentence. He stepped closer to the group before being attacked.  
  
Hermione nearly pounced on him, flinging her arms around his neck in a tight hug, She whispered so softly Harry had to strain to hear her words. Even then, they were almost incoherent. She had her face buried in his neck, hiding her moving lips so Ron wouldn't know she was speaking.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'll find a way to keep in contact with you. I-I'd drop Ron to be your friend in a flash, but it's really complicated. I hope you forgive me. I'm working on a way to communicate secretly with you."  
  
Harry hugged her tighter, closing his eyes, wishing a way to say what he wanted. He knew nothing would come out, though.  
  
There was a muffled noise in his neck, one that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Hermione stepped away, releasing him from her grip, Harry's arms loosening automatically. Hermione sniffed and rubbed the underside of her puffy, red eyes. He was right, she was crying.  
  
"I'll see you soon, Harry." Her voice came out bold, in a way he wouldn't expect a crying person to sound.  
  
Ron's eyes followed Hermione out, deciding he'd have no choice but to deal with her later. He didn't like the way she hugged Harry. Why would that bother him, though? Harry would never take Hermione, since he's gay.  
  
He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to move any closer to Harry. He knew he'd have to if he were to hide his disgust for the thing in front of him from his mother. He wouldn't hug Harry. He'd shake his hand.  
  
Ron made to step towards Harry but stopped when he found his mother blocking his way. Her arms were suddenly around Harry, pulling him into a hug that she'd bestow on any of her kids. Molly Weasley's eyes were red and puffy, wet with tears. She was even sobbing against Harry shoulder. Harry squeezed her.  
  
"I have not seen you for so long, Harry dear, and now it's going to be a long time until I see you again." Molly sniffed and released Harry, stepped back. She pulled a hanky from her purse and dabbed her eyes. "I will miss you Harry. Take care of yourself."  
  
Harry flashed his best smile at her, hoping to convey his gratitude and affection through his facial expression.  
  
Ron stepped up to Harry and stuck out his hand the moment Mrs. Weasley finished saying good bye. Unluckily for him, she stayed in the room waiting for him.  
  
Harry smirked, deciding to take revenge on this so-called friend. He calmly received Ron's hand, in acceptance to shake.  
  
"Later, Mate. See you in school." Ron's voice held emotions that were clearly fake, in Harry's point of view. When did Ronald Weasley become an actor?  
  
Ron's hand, and the rest of the 17 year old boy, started to retreat. Harry's grip suddenly squeezed Ron's hand, causing the boy's eyes to widen in surprise, and the actual boy to nearly stumble. He did stumble when Harry yanked him forward, wrapped the other arm around him in a tight embrace.  
  
Ron's face was bright red when he was finally released. He mumbled something and quickly made his way out of Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry before following out behind Ron.  
  
Harry turned and started to the kitchen, grinning to himself. What had Ron made of the hug? Harry was willing to bet Ron wouldn't dare to come within 100 feet of him now. The kid deserved it, of course.  
  
He moved efficiently into and through the kitchen, not paying any attention to Snape. Snape was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet. Or he was, until Potter came in and disturbed him by moving around soundlessly.  
  
Harry stopped as he reached for the cupboard, realizing how incredibly strange the kitchen as set up. He had forgotten he wasn't in a muggle home, and that things were much different here. Luckily for him, many of the things he saw here were just older versions of what he used in the Unicorn's Horn.  
  
In fact, the entire kitchen worked much differently than a muggle household's. There were no microwaves; no stoves or ovens, not even a refrigerator. Sure, there were things that held the purpose of those appliances, but they were different.  
  
None of the Wizard appliances were run by electricity. Each appliance used Magic. The cupboards weren't even nailed to the wall, for they didn't need nails in the magical world. They didn't need paint, or glue, either. Magic could be used for anything.  
  
The cupboards clung to their spots by a sturdy hovering charm. Whenever someone reached to get into a cupboard, the door would automatically move out of the person's way. Sometimes the cupboards rearranged themselves to confuse their owners. The Cold Box was much like the muggle refrigerator, and the Freeze Box was like the muggle freezer. They were boxes of sorts, made out of whatever substances the owner chose, charmed to keep whatever was inside of them at a certain temperature. In a Freeze Box there was no such thing as freezer burn. The wizard's equivalent to an oven; a Cooker, was also just a box; although different from the Cold Box or the Freeze Box. The Cold Box and the Freeze Box had a charm preset on them for a certain temperature. For a cooker, a wizard had to say the charm the instructions told it to. There were, of course, charms in place on it to tell when the food was burning and turn off, and timing charms as well. There really was not an equivalent to a microwave. Wizards could generally just heat the food up themselves.  
  
There were, of course, no electric bills.  
  
Wizards who were not allowed to use magic from being under aged, incapable, or doing a crime which caused their want snapped; or squibs, would have an issue with these sorts of Wizarding Appliances. So naturally, there was another whole set of magical items designed just for these special groups. Cookers with buttons and knobs, with magic already built into them were created. Smaller boxes were made-with only so many uses to them; for children for use as a muggle 'microwave.'  
  
Those sorts of devices were never found in a wizard's home; especially not one like the Malfoy Manor or The Most Noble House of Black. Not even the The Burrow had one. That was because they couldn't afford one, of course. The Blacks and the Malfoys didn't need one because they had house elves; plus, they were above such things.  
  
The cupboard door slid aside and a bag of bread opened itself, two piece of toast floating out of it and landing in Harry's hands. Harry smiled to himself and stepped away, letting the cupboard and the bag close themselves. He walked over to the Cooker.  
  
"There is a House Elf for that, Mr. Potter." Snape's tone drawled, causing Harry to glare.  
  
'And there is shampoo for that, Snape!' Harry thought inwardly as he opened the cooker and dropped his toast in. He closed it and with a wave of his wand, his toast was cooked. He opened it and removed his toast, biting into it.  
  
He knew Snape had been watching him. He could feel the wizard's gaze.  
  
"What, no taste enhancers, Potter?" The spy put down his article to sneer at Harry.  
  
Harry sneered right back, being more frustrated with his inability to speak.  
  
"What's this? Cat got your tongue, Potter?"  
  
Harry glared more, feeling like steam was going to start spouting from his ears from the anger welling up inside of him.  
  
"When are you going to give up this charade," Snape picked up his tea glass, getting ready to sip it, "Potter? Have you not enough attention as it were?"  
  
Harry's anger was deafening. The very magical lights flickered a few times, and the cupboards shook. Snape smirked triumphantly.  
  
"Letting your anger get the best of you, I see." He said calmly, setting his tea cup down and standing. He turned, with a swish, to exit the kitchen. "Meet me in the basemen-"  
  
He stopped speaking the moment his tea cup, half full of hot tea, hit him on the head and broke. The tea dripped down his hair, onto his cloak, burning his skin.  
  
He was cleaned in a moments notice; his wand withdrawn. He turned to Harry and stared at him for the longest moment, his expression completely blank.  
  
Then he sneered. "Learn to control your magic, Potter. Otherwise ... it'll get you into serious trouble someday." The man allowed his sneer to change to a smirk. "9 O' Clock, Potter. In the basement."  
  
With that, Snape was gone.  
  
Harry took another bite of his toast, trembling from the adrenaline that had rushed through his system. 

---

"Glad to see you've developed some punctuality, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry glared at the rude excuse of a welcome, and waved his wand. His enchanted writing pad floated in front of Snape.  
  
_'Where are Moody and Tonks?'_ it scrawled, in a clear blue.  
  
"This is Occulmency, Potter. Moody and Tonks will join us in an hour and a half for regular dueling lessons. Then, about 2 hours after that, I teach you Dark Arts. Lets get started, shall we? Since you have such a poor ability for Occulmency, perhaps I will be able to see what really happened the night you attempted to smash everyone's hard work by ... running away."  
  
Harry glared; but readied himself for the onslaught he was about to receive. Oh yes, Snape would be able to see what he wants; but it will be Harry's doings.  
  
"Legilimens!" The deep voice of the Potion's Master came loudly.  
  
Harry's walls flew up immediately; but his barriers reached out and grasped at Snape's mind. They pulled him in, forcing him to watch several weeks of Harry's year in the blink of an eye.  
  
Snape withdrew himself from Harry's mind, forcing Harry's grasp away.  
  
They were both panting with exhaustion when they were finally back in the real world.  
  
When Snape finally caught his breath, he spoke.  
  
"How dare you manipulate my mind so; and make up fake memories, Potter."  
  
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. Why did this man refuse to believe such a thing would happen to him?  
  
"I must, of course, congratulate you on your progress in Occulmency. You ability was very unexpected. It does not, however, merit arrogance. Mr. Potter, you are dismissed. Return here at 10:30 for your dueling lessons."  
  
Harry blinked in surprise, befor shrugging and exiting the basement.  
  
Snape stared after the young man who was leaving.  
  
Could Harry Potter, son of James Potter; THE James Potter, really have been treated like that?  
  
Granted; that live in no way compared to his own, except for the neglect and lack of love.  
  
Love, however, was an unnecessary and dangerous emotion. Severus Snape, Professor and Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a Death Eater of Voldemort's inner circle, and spy for the Order of the Phoenix, hoped he would never fall in love.  
  
Ever.

---

Harry returned to the basement a few minutes before 10:30. Severus Snape was no where in sight.  
  
"Hi Harry!" Tonks said happily, grabbing Harry and pulling him into a tight hug. She released him and stepped back. "Shall we begin?"  
  
Harry shrugged.  
  
"Let's test your ability first, Potter." Moody grunted, moving towards the more open area of the basement. "Tonks will be observing to see what level you are at."  
  
Harry nodded, and only moments later found himself dodging a knock-back curse. He threw one right back with all his might, immediately rolling on the ground. As he anticipated, a curse flew over his head.  
  
Harry threw a tickling charm at the Auror before rolling a few more times and jumping to his feet.  
  
The Auror was dodging his spells seemingly effortlessly. The two went on like that for about an hour.  
  
Harry was exhausted, worn out. The effort of throwing and dodging curses had taken a lot out of him. Now he found himself pinned to the wall with a holding spell. His wand found itself in Moody's left hand.  
  
He was soon released, and found himself on the floor with a bottle of water in his hands. He leaned his head back against the wall and drank heavily.  
  
"There are 16 Duelist Levels, Mr. Potter." Moody voice came, monotonously. He and Tonks had huddled together and spoke for a few minutes after he released Harry. Harry suspected they were discussing him.  
  
"The levels are based from a wizard's dueling strategy, rather than power. A wizard's power is measured by how forceful their spells are. There are 11 Power Levels." Moody started to explain, raising questions in Harry's mind.  
  
Tonks picked up from there. "There are also two more sorts of levels. There are 7 Concentration Levels. This measures how well a wizard is able to focus their power and control it. The last, a measure of the Wizard's overall ability, are Magician Levels. There are 61 Magician levels. To get you Magician level, you add your Duelist Level and Power Level together and multiply them by two, and then add on your concentration level."  
  
"I have a Duelist Level of 12, Mr. Potter, and a Power level of 8. 12 plus 8 is 20, doubled is 40. My concentration level is perfect, so my Magician level is 47." Moody explained, taking a seat in a chair and peering at Harry through his magical eye.  
  
"I have a Duelist level of 14, Power level of 7. These added, and doubled is 42. My concentration level is 5, so my Magician level is 47 as well. Moody and I, although he is stronger than I and is more able to control his Magic, have the same Magician level because I have a better strategy than he does; and strategy makes up for about 52 of the Magician Level."  
  
Harry was listening intently. He was dying to know what his magician level was.  
  
"You concentration level matters lease, obviously." Moody muttered. Harry smiled. "Harry, your concentration level is at a 3. It seriously needs to be worked on. Your power level, on the other hand, is a 9. This going off from you spectacular Patronus charm, and of course, the way your magic reacts when your angry. Your power is so heavy it overflows when your anger begins to rule you. Your mind unconsciously keeps your magic under control, but when your emotions go haywire, your mind looses it's concentration. This is also another reason your concentration level is so low. Your Duelist level is 7, which is good for a person your age. Most 6th years have a duelist level of 2 or 3."  
  
"So, with this said, your Magician level is 35." Tonks said quickly, getting bored of the long lecture, "The average dope has a Magician level of 31, which puts them just above the halfway point."  
  
"We're here to help you work on your weak points. First, we will perfect your concentration."  
  
"Hey! We should perfect mine, too. That way I can surpass your Magician level."  
  
Moody glared at her, "If you do so, I will easily surpass you by learning better strategy, for that's what you will be teaching Harry." He countered.  
  
"We're going to be taking turns teaching you, Harry. Your power level can also go up, but Remus Lupin will help work on that with you. His is the most knowledgeable in the area of gaining power. He started out with a Power Level of 3 and now has a power level of 10." Tonks said simply.  
  
Harry nodded, weakly pushing himself to his feet. He hoped the next lesson wasn't too strenuous.  
  
---  
  
Hope you enjoyed my story up to this point. 


	7. Dueling

  
  
**Speak to Me**  
  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything associated with him. He's property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.  
  
**Summary:** Hogwarts is has closed for a year, and Harry is thrown in his room, locked from the outside world, forbidden to speak. What happens when he forgets he has a voice? When school starts up again, who's going to teach him to speak?  
  
**Warning:** Possibly **A/U,** Mentions of **Abuse.** OotP **Spoilers**, HP/SS **SLASH** (Will be HP/SS slash later on, much later, because I prefer to work it in, not just jump in. So don't pressure me.), Some bad **language.** Possible Strong **prejudice** against Gays, as well as Apathy towards them and nasty remarks.  
  
Black is the absence of all color. White is the existence of all color. Black is the absorbance of the entire spectrum. White is the reflection of the entire spectrum.  
  
So, I did have it wrong now that I look. I fixed it.  
  
Here's the rewritten scene. I removed it from the previous chapter.  
  
Thanks to those who pointed out the light color mistake. I didn't know that about the light; but I correct it. I also changed my idea a little, and am going to go off that. I hope no one minds.  
  
If there are any great physicists out there, I apologize if I'm incorrect. I just figured, since red and blue make magenta, it just seemed to make sense to me that since green has blue in it, and adding more blue to magenta would make it violet, that a high concentration of red and blue and a tiny bit of green would make it a violetish color. But I'm thinking about pigments when I do that.  
  
_**Ch. 7 - Dueling**_  
  
---  
  
"From now on, Mr. Potter, when you get angry, I want you to concentrate on keeping your power in. I trust you will have plenty of chances with this with Professor Snape around, of course." Tonks chuckled softly at Moody's words as the Auror moved over to Harry and dropped a black glass ball in his hand. Harry looked slightly confused.  
  
"Black is the absence of light. This ball is black because it absorbs all light, and doesn't reflect any." Moody said calmly, "So this is the perfect concentration exercise. I want you to work on it whenever you have the chance. Concentrate on making light reflect from the ball by pushing your power into it. The color reflect is the color of your aura, or your magical energy."  
  
Harry curled his fingers around the ball and squeezed, watching it and pushing his power into it. The ball slowly lit up in a strange dark violet color.  
  
After retracting his magic, he looked up at moody. Moody looked slightly disturbed.  
  
"Alright. Perhaps you want an explanation. Let's sit." He murmured, conjuring three very uncomfortable looking chairs. Harry sight, but immediately sat down, holding his glass ball. Tonks took a seat as well, and Moody sat down. He looked thoughtful for a moment.  
  
"A wizard's magical energy is exactly as light is, which makes this a great concentration exercise. How do I put this... " Moody frowned for a moment, thinking. It startled Harry when Moody's voice broke though the silent spell.  
  
"Most wizard's auras are white. They have a perfect distribution of red, green, and blue magical energy. It's just odd to see.." He sighed and shifted, looking Harry directly in the eyes. "You're deficient in green magic, it seems. The color your ball reflected is violet, which means your magic energy is dominated by red and blue colors, although it has a little green in it. If You-Know-Who were to push all of his magic into it, the ball would most likely turn a very red magenta color due to his very dark nature. Red magical energy is used to cast curses or jinxes, and the unforgivables. Red energy is the evil energy in a wizard. Blue magical energy is the energy used for simple, neutral spells or charms. Spells or charms that do not reflect an evil or good intent. Therefore, blue energy is neutral territory, it's neither good or bad. Green magical energy is a wizard's curse breaking energy. It's the energy our body uses for healing, it's also the energy witches or wizards need to cast healing spells, put up wards, counter spells, or even erect a shield. Green energy is used when you conjure a patronus, as well. It's the opposite of red energy. It's good energy.  
  
It's quite strange that you, who could conjure a patronus in your third year, would lack green energy. I think that your energy is violet because of your scar there. Dumbledore had told me that when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to kill you, he gave you some of his magic. It's most likely that you just have excess red and blue energy, rather than lack a green energy. Do you understand? I think that, going off from what I just saw, your magical energy would be a Cyan color if it weren't for You-Know-Who's power mingling with yours."  
  
Harry nodded, and gave Moody a weak smile.  
  
Moody smiled, "Good," He began, "Tonks and I need to get going. We have a very important matter that we need to attend to."  
  
Tonks nodded, and sighed slightly. Moody stood up.  
  
"Your job is to figure out how to separate the differant energies. It's best you don't try to get white first, that would require a concentration level of 6 or 7. I can explain why next time we meet if you need, but for now, I can't. If you try to concentrate only your green magic into the ball, then the ball will turn green. It works that way for each color. Why don't you work on that sort while you wait for your dark arts lessons with Snape?"  
  
Harry shrugged, and nodded. He turned his attention on the ball as Tonks and Moody left.  
  
Harry had decided to focus his attention on achieving a blue glow. He succeeded in a very blue violet color when his process was interrupted.  
  
"Potter." A very familiar, male voice said from the doorway. The glass ball Harry was concentrating on turned black, and the young man turned an annoyed gaze on Snape. One that clearly stated 'what do you want?'  
  
"Your boyfriend," He said the word with a cruel smirk, "has been trying to get in touch. The knight bus has been found in front of these buildings, one of the workers of the bus has been knocking on people's doors asking about you. I could not congratulate you any further on your choice in a partner. He may lack more intelligence than you do."  
  
Harry's eyes seemed to blaze with rage. Still, he remained seated, determined to keep his anger in check.  
  
"I have taken the precautions necessary to allow him in here to see you. You have 15 minutes until your lessons start." Snape turned and swept off in a flutter of crimson red and black silken robes.  
  
Shortly followed by Snape's departure, Jackel stepped through the doorway, gently closing the door behind him.  
  
Harry gently set his glass ball aside and stood up, quickly moving to Jackel and flinging his arms around him. Jackel's arms wrapped around Harry's form tightly for a short moment before he broke the embrace.  
  
Jackel stepped back, examining Harry with sorrow in his eyes.  
  
Harry's features drew into a frown. In a short movement he had his writing pad floating in front of Jackel, the words _'What is wrong?'_ scrawled in the center.  
  
Jackel seemed to study the words for a very long time before he spoke.  
  
"I can't be with you." Jackel said softly, almost in a whisper. He stared straight into Harry's eyes, trying to convey how sorry he was, how much he still cared for Harry.  
  
Harry closed his eyes and turned his head, clenching his teeth.  
  
The writing on the pad was red, bold, and italic. _'Why?'_  
  
Jackel continued to watch Harry as he spoke, "You're the Boy-Who-Lived. You-Know-Who will send Death Eaters after you and any that you care for. I can't put myself in that direct line, and I don't think you'd want me to." Harry didn't even twitch. He continued to look as if he had just been slapped. "You don't, Harry, do you? Do you want me to die?"  
  
_'How can you say that, Jackel? I would never wish death upon anyone!'_  
  
"So you understand then," Jackel said softly, stepping closer to Harry.  
  
Harry stepped away, raising his gaze to look at Jackel.  
  
_'No.'_  
  
Jackel suddenly looked angry. What was so hard to understand? He didn't want to die for a selfish, teenage boy.  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed at Jackel's angered expression.  
  
The 'No.' disappeared from the enchanted writing pad, and new words formed.  
  
_'I don't see how you can feel that way. As if you think it's normal to turn your back on someone because of circumstances like this. If everyone felt the way you did, I'd have no friends. You knew who I was when you decided to get back together with me. I assumed you knew what it entailed. So why this decision now?'_  
  
Jackel's eyes flashed at Harry, causing Harry to glare at him.  
  
"Someone enlightened me to things I had not known previously. I had been offered something that I can not refuse. It was either that, or this, and I chose this. So if you'll excuse me, I'll go pick up my prize- and be wonderfully _oblivious_ to anything that has to do with you." He started towards the door.  
  
Harry was standing on front of it, staring defiantly at Jackel.  
  
_'You'll not be leaving until I know exactly what you're talking about, Jackel.'_ The pad floated in front of Harry.  
  
Harry suddenly lurched forward, stumbling into the enchanted writing pad as the door he had been blocking threw itself open.  
  
Jackel smirked. "Ask him." He said calmly and moved past Snape, through the door.  
  
Harry righted himself and straightened his robes, giving Snape a dark look.  
  
Snape smirked smugly, "Get ready, Potter. I'll be back in a moment, I have a matter that needs to be attended to."  
  
As soon as Snape was out the door, Harry went back to his seat and sat, snatching the glass ball up irritably. Curling his fingers around the ball, he unleashed his irritation and anger into the ball. The ball exploded in crimson red light, and even started to hum and vibrate gently as Harry immersed himself in his anger towards Jackel, Snape, and Voldemort.  
  
He didn't even hear the door opening and closing.  
  
He didn't release his hold on the ball until he heard a deep male voice _breath_ his last name, in a sound that emitted a small amount of awe and puzzlement.  
  
Startled, the red quickly disspeared and the ball became back once again. Harry set it in his lap and looked up at Snape, who seemed to be recovering.  
  
"If you manage to not pick up what I teach you in these lessons, I can assume that it's not because you lack the power, but the brains." Snape was smirking.  
  
Harry stood, the ball rolling off his lap and dropping on the floor. It rolled until it hit the wall, where it bounced, rolled a little more, and then stopped. Harry's enchanted pad found itself floating in front of Snape.  
  
_'What did you tell Jackel? _Sir,_ what kind of 'offer' did you make him?'_  
  
Snape continued to smirk, moving his was over to a chair near Harry, and sitting.  
  
"It was for your protection, Potter."  
  
_'What did you tell him, _Professor?' Harry wanted to wipe the sneer off the greasy git's face. The thought suddenly seemed disgusting to him has he decided that no small amount of grease would come off with the smirk.  
  
"I told him that he could either live life in the confines of the Order of the Phoenix, or he could have his memory wiped of everything that has happened between you and him and could continue to live his life, risk free and as happy as he was before."  
  
Harry's anger flared.  
  
_'You bastard! How dare you! You're the one who made him decide I wasn't worth all that trouble! You miserable jackass, just because you don't have any friends doesn't mean you can take mine away! It's not my fault you're a greasy vampire! I hate you, Snape. With every inch of my being! You're a cold, unfeeling, stupid, mean, bastard! You're a sorry excuse for a human being! I don't care if you're a spy. I don't care if you're a Death Eater. I do care how you treat people, and you treat them like shit! Especially me, who doesn't deserve an inch of what you give! You use some sorry excuse of 'protecting me' for throwing out my boyfriend! I'm telling you, that's not protecting me. Stop trying to ruin my life and fix yours."_  
  
The black ball by the wall was now glowing a faint dark violet color. Harry's power was radiating through the room.  
  
Snape didn't move for awhile, except for a faint twitch of his wand hand, and nothing more. Silence continued to reign in the room as Snape seemed to read the writing pad again. Harry was trembling with rage.  
  
Snape slowly stood from his chair. In a swift movement, he snatched the pad and pegged it against the wall next to the glowing red ball. He remove his wand and banished the chairs.  
  
He then turned to Harry, his voice as frigid as a dead corpse laying in the coldest region of Antartica. "The first thing you need to know about the Dark Arts is that it can engulf a being. It can suck them in and feed off their power. If one isn't careful, it will overpower them, fill all their senses and drive them mad. The Dark Arts is not a talent, and it is not to be considered a mere form of magic. It's a vile creature that flows within most, waiting to be nurtured and fed so it can grow. It eats from the inside, not the outside.  
  
The Dark Lord is an example of the Dark Arts at it's full extent. The more people who die at the hands of the Dark Arts, the more power he gets. The souls of the dead are pulled to him by the magic that took them. You must be careful to never, ever use this magic with evil intent." Snape's lips formed into a cruel smile, "The only way to keep it from completely destroying you is to keep a clear heart. When you use the magic to kill the Dark Lord, you wont use it with the intent to kill. You'll use it with the intent to save. When you use the magic in training with me, you shall use it with the mentality of saving the world. This, I trust, your Gryffindor psyche will have no problem with."  
  
When Harry made a short not, Snape continued.  
  
"We'll start with spells that aid you. The first I will teach you is a summoning spell. The creature you summon will protect you at all costs, and can only be controlled by you. It is not your choice what you summon."  
  
Snape stepped to a cleared area, and withdrew his wand. He demonstraited shortly, summoning a small bat with beady red eyes in a small puff of smoke.  
  
Harry had to hide a grin. How was that thing suposed to protect Snape?  
  
The Professor glared at Harry coldy, then looked at the bat. "Good evening, Sadituria."  
  
The bat let out a long, streaming hiss and spread its wings. With a bang and a flash of orange light, a new creature appeared in place of the bat. The woman looked humanoid, except for the huge, black wings flapping slowly to keep her hovering above the floor, the crimson red eyes and long, pearly white fangs protruding from her mouth. There was barely any clothing covering her tall, frail looking form. Her fingers were long and boney, her nails looking more like claws. She was a beautiful, yet hideous site.  
  
The grin dissapeared from Harry's face as understanding dawned. Snape summoned a vampire bat. He had only been breifed on them in DADA.  
  
"Fresssshh blood?" The woman hissed, eyeing Harry with a lustful look. Harry glared, unconciously taking a step back.  
  
Snape chuckled softly. "My apologies, Sadi. I had summoned you for I am teaching this child the ways of the Dark Arts. I do hope you accept my apologies."  
  
"I do, massster. May I go?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The vampire bat disappeared with a faint 'poof'.  
  
"The creature that you summon will be a dark creature. That is why this spell is listed as a dark art. I do not expect you to master this on the first wave of your wand, not the 18th. Since you are Harry Potter, you shall undoubtably call the most powerful creature your magic will allow on your fourth try.  
  
Harry ended up with a baby snake on his first try. Snape banished it for him. His second try he managed to get a cobra. Snape glared and banished that, too.  
  
Harry took a deep breath. He tugged at his anger, pushing it into his wand as he did the glass ball. He made sure to keep his _good intent_ in his mind. He unleashed his magic.  
  
As if it were just to spite Snape, Harry got the correct creature on his 3rd try. At least, it would seem so.  
  
A basilisk is a pretty damned scary, powerful creature.  
  
It was such a large one that it broke the floorboards when it appeared. It was intelligent enough to not bang on the ceiling. It did take up almost the entire room.  
  
The baslisk stayed still, and stared at Harry.  
  
It hissed. "I am Sssir Talcion of the Ssssouthern Bassslisksss. I shall follow you who refusssessss to ssspeak. I trusssst thiss man hasss good intenssionsss."  
  
Talcion kept his eyes closed, his tounge darting out and tasing the air every few moments. It didnt take very long for Harry or Snape to realize it was how he saw. The snake did not want to harm anyone unless it was commanded so.  
  
"Harry Potter is practicing the Dark Arts. I am his teacher." Severus cleared his throat, keeping his eyes off the baslisk. He had no idea what the snake said to Potter. "Potter is practicing the summoning charm. He will be until we are certain he can perform it correctly. I hope this does not agitate you, and will sned you on your way. Mr. Potter has lost his voice and cannot command you to do so himself."  
  
The baslisk's tounge licked the air once more, and it hissed to Harry, "Young masssster issss very powerful to call on the great Ssssir Talcion. Feel free to practice summoning me as you wish. I do not mind."  
  
The baslisk dissapeared.  
  
Snape sneered at Harry. "Trust you to call one of the more feared beings in the creature world. Let no one know who your summon is. Now. Practice." Harry glared at Snape as the man conjured a seat, then sat.  
  
Sighing, Harry began practicing summoning.  
  
He was exhusted by the time Snape finally decided he had proved he could do it fairly well.  
  
That just happened to take an entire hour, which was the promised length of time for his Dart Arts lessons.  
  
Snape had left the room as quickly as he could, leaving behind a soft warning before he stroad out. He had told Potter to never, ever, speak to him the way he did then, again. The consequences would be dire. And he wont forget what transpired here. Harry would pay.  
  
Harry sigh and sat down on a safe place on the floor. He stared at the destoyed floor wearily, for several minutes until sleep claimed him.  
  
He was really, really tired from the excersion of todays activities.  
  
Occulmency, dueling, concentraiting, breaking up, and summoning that huge baslisk over and over again.  
  
Harry wouldn't be found in the distructed room until an hour later. He slept the whole time.  
  
---  
  
Sorry I took forever. But I was moving into my own apartment and getting settled in and plus ive been really occupied ith my boyfriend :P But yeah. I hope this doesnt suck. So you know, Ill warn you if i ever decide to discontinue this, or any of my other stories. 


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